


Title Questions; Questioning Titles

by SpaceOut



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Dursley Family, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Author Remus Lupin, Cunning Harry Potter, Decent Severus Snape, Godfather Sirius Black, Harry's Massive Vocabulary, How Do I Tag, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Remus Lupin, Protective Severus Snape, Racism, Smart Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2019-04-25 17:12:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14383251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceOut/pseuds/SpaceOut
Summary: Harry Potter is seven years old when he receives a letter from a mysterious man who claims to be his godfather, who claims to be innocent, who claims that magic is real, and claims a lot more stuff that makes Harry's head spin.Though, on Dudley's 11th birthday, Harry is left in London with a few pounds in his hands and a promise to be picked up seven hours later when someone calls out his name and is on a warpath to get to him.





	1. Housing Units

**Author's Note:**

> okay,,,,well,,,i just really wanted to write this, okay? I just....nEEDED IT, YOU GET?
> 
> things may be a bit ooc but i'm trying to not make it too obvious. Harry's probably the most out of character because he's....you know....thinking. sirius too is also using his brain, surprise!
> 
> Okay, background:
> 
> -Harry's pretty heckin' smart, alright? Call it me projecting. 
> 
> -Snape's a dick, but honestly is a decent person when under proper circumstance
> 
> -Dumbledore isn't....trying to be dickish, you know?? but,,,,well,,,,the whole thing with sirius,,,,,,
> 
> -OH YES I LOVE SIRIUS BLACK WITH ALL MY HEART

Harry glanced up at the ceiling of his cupboard where a dozen little (stolen) glow in the dark stars were stuck by a mix of gum and old glue. It was his favorite part of the house, the little cupboard where they forget he lives. Or maybe they don’t forget-- they probably do just ignore. Still, it was his home. It had the stars in the sky (one of them named), a stack of books in the corner that the Dursleys didn’t know he owned, and it had an odd letter that he received when he was seven. (That letter was the biggest source of hope he’s ever had.)

He was a fairly good reader by then, reading chapter books and everything! So when he got the letters, he saw the warning and took to heart the heeding:  _ this is for the eyes of Harry James Potter alone, you, Harry. Don’t let those Dursleys see this, they’ll throw a right fit.  _ And well, it wasn’t exactly unlikely, so he kept it to himself. 

The letter was far from brief, but by now, Harry’s sure he’s memorized every word of it. 

 

_ Dear Harry,  _

 

_ My name is Sirius Black and you probably don’t remember me. You were just a baby when we last saw each other-- and, of course, it was a rather traumatic night for us all, that Halloween, the night your parents died. I’ll tell you all about your parents here in a moment, but I need you to listen to me, okay? I love you, kid, so much, and you need to understand what I’m about to say. _

 

_ Here in a few years you’ll get a letter in the post that offers you a spot at Hogwarts, a school for magic users like you and I. Your aunt will throw the biggest fit you’ve ever seen and lord only knows what your uncle will do, but you need to take that letter and run with it. That will be your escape, as hesitant as you may seem with the prospect of it all, but you will find a home there.  _

_ When you get there, everyone will expect you to be one way because when you were a baby you did something amazing, (I won’t bother you about it now, you’re far too young to hear about the terrible time surrounding the war right now, but remember, you are  _ remarkable.)  _ If you are not the way they expect you to be? Pardon me, but fuck them. You need to be your own person. This may not make sense, but take pride in your individuality. Take pride in who you are.  _

 

_ Make friends from the start, okay buddy? Because friends over years become family, and you may be lacking one right now (I don’t know if you’re fond of Petunia and Vernon, but dear me, I never was, so pardon me if I’m off the mark) so here’s what a family does: they support you, they love you unconditionally, they want you to be the best you can be, they want to see you happy, they will be there for you, and…They will help you in any way they can. The home in which I was born never contained my family, but your father became my family, and I his. _

 

_...Harry, I don’t know how much more time I’ll have to write this, so I may need to speed up.  _

 

_ When you get to Hogwarts, there will be a man named Albus Dumbledore and he will be aloof and mysterious and rattle thoughts around in your head until it combusts. He’s a great man, light to his core, but he will….forget to observe. I’d trust him with my life, but I would not trust him with my freedom, and you should do the same. Take what he says with a grain of salt. He’s brilliant and he will make you think he knows all-- he does not. No one knows all. Never forget that.  _

 

_ Before I tell you about your parents, I need to tell you about myself, and I hope you forgive me if I can’t get to them before I must leave, but I’m alive and they are not, and that’s the fact of the matter.  _

 

_ Hi! I’m currently in Azkaban (magic Alcatraz) because I was accused of betraying your parents and my case never went to trial, thus I was not able to defend myself in court! The thing is: I didn’t do it. The man who did is a rogue animagus (shapeshifter) rat named Peter Pettegrew who I, foolishly, went after and got arrested for trying to (slightly) murder him. This was during war and it was all very scary for the government, so they tossed me into prison without trial, I don’t blame them, no matter how much I want to. I blame myself completely for acting so rashly and handing you off to Hagrid without a second thought, even as your godfather. You can blame me too, I don’t mind. I deserve that.  _ __   
  


_ But I need you to do me a favor, okay? I’m only allowed the right to one letter, and I know if I send this to the Ministry it’ll be swept under the rug because it was their mistake, and well….the only other person I’d send this to wouldn’t be able to so much as pipe up a word to help due to current legislation, so I’m sending this to you and hoping you can help...This is a lot to put on your shoulders, I know, but I need you to find a man named Remus Lupin for me.  _

 

_ (Moony, it’s me. It was the Fidelius charm, we switched it, Peter and I. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. I’m sorry I ever suspected. I love you.) _

 

_ Remus Lupin was another best mate of your dad and I-- he’s the last person on earth I trust wholeheartedly. He’s Bertrand from The Werewolf of Paris, but I pray he’s in a much better state. I hope you understand my meaning. Though, unlike his title character, he will be able to keep you safe, aside a random two days of the month. (Really, Harry, I promise he’s not just Bertrand, he’s truly a man.) Anyway, I need you to show him this letter, and he’ll need your help to get a voice.  _

 

_ When you’re eleven, when you get that letter I told you about, you get yourself an owl from Diagon Alley (yes, you read that correctly), mail him, and ask him to meet you somewhere in the non-magic world. I know you have some years to do this, but...I had to send the letter. I had to, you understand? I’m...I’m not sure how much longer I have with such clear thought in a place like this.  _

 

_ I’ve planned so much for this….but I know there’s so much missing. I’m so sorry Harry. I’m so sorry that I wasn’t able to stop him. I’m so so sorry.  _

 

_ Right, your parents. Your dad was brilliant in transfiguration-- he had black hair and brown eyes and dark skin and black square glassses and your mom was brilliant too and she had green eyes just like you and red hair. htey both lovedyou so somuch we all love you okay we allddo i’m sos sorry. your mom loved to fence and youra dad loved quidditch and i have to gooi’msosorry bu harry goodbye! _

 

It was obvious he had run out of time, Harry thought tiredly as he kept staring at the glowing stars, it was obvious he cared. He...Harry didn’t know Sirius Black in real life. He didn’t know if the man was telling the truth. And, well, until his eleventh birthday, he wouldn’t know. 

 

Still, despite his world-weariness, he liked to dream he was with his godfather. Maybe he looked like his father and like Harry, or maybe he was blond, or maybe he had blue eyes-- the ideas went on and on. But every time he imagined them happy. Happy being  _ family.  _

 

Sometimes, even, he thought of whoever Remus Lupin was (he read the book Sirius mentioned, and Remus “Moon Moon” Lupin, was a werewolf, which made sense, given the book title) and imagined Remus and Sirius being happy together. After all, in a little segment obviously not meant for him that said he loved Remus. Maybe like a brother, probably, even, but Harry always wanted parents and books always had parents that fell in love….he liked to dream about his books.

 

Harry would stay up for hours and hours simply thinking about what he could do to help, should the letter prove real. He thought about the magic that Sirius mentioned-- something he knew for a fact was real, after all, he’d done it! Magically moving things, teleporting!-- and he wondered if he’d be good enough to save his godfather. Maybe he’d be the hero like in one of his books! Riding on a horse with a- a--- a magic wand, or something! With Remus Lupin at his side as they saved a wrongly imprisoned man!

 

With a wistful sigh, Harry shifted his eyes from his favorite star (one he named Sirius, after he’d read it in a book that Sirius was also a star) to the sudden darkness of the living room. Uncle Vernon must have turned off the TV, he decided, that means it’s eleven and he had to get up early the next day-- Dudley’s birthday. 

 

Just a little longer until his eleventh birthday, he reminded himself as he curled up into a ball to try and sleep, just a few more months then he can be the hero, and not the boy locked in the cupboard.

 

\--

 

“I will not tolerate any funny business, boy!” Uncle Vernon hissed dangerously in his ear, as the man (who turned a positively painful shade of purple) gripped his shoulder so tight he’s sure it’d bruse. The words nor the grip were surprising to Harry, however, the fact that he was able to go with the Dursleys into London Proper for Dudley’s birthday was very much a surprise. “Ms. Figg is out on holiday so we can’t dump you, however much we’d like to.”

 

Despite the harsh words, Harry still couldn’t quell the excitement bubbling up inside of him. London proper! He wondered if they’d be going to the zoo! Or a show! Maybe a shopping center! 

 

Looking up at Uncle Vernon, Harry smoothed his face into cool dissatisfaction. “Understood.” He knew they rather liked it when he felt miserable…It was probably because of his magic, if their screamings of  _ FREAK!  _ were anything to go by. 

 

Evidently satisfied, Uncle Vernon pushed Harry towards the backseat, muttering under his breath about ungrateful brats. It almost brought a smile to Harry’s face. Maybe they both enjoyed each other’s mutual destruction.

 

\--

 

“Happy birthday, you brat,” Aunt Petunia refused to sneer, but looked as if she was having a rather tough time of it. “That should keep you busy while we go to the zoo with Dudley.”

 

In his hand was a few grimy pounds and on his face was an astonished look that, for all of his practice, he wasn’t able to squash down into a neutral one. “T-thank you, Aunt Petunia!”

 

If anything, his manners made Aunt Petunia even more angry, “Don’t stutter! It’s unbecoming! We’ll be back in a few hours. I expect you to be right here at six PM, not a second after!”

Harry nodded dumbly as he stared at the money in his hands-- this was the most money he’d ever held in his whole life! Even as the Dursleys sped away, he could hardly focus on the fact that he also was completely  _ alone _ for the first time in a very, very long time, because-- well-- money! He needed to find a bookshop immediately!    
  


Finally stuffing the cash into his pocket, Harry looked around to see the shops in the area. Hm...just over there was a directory, perhaps that’d do some good. Do they have shops on those? It’d been so long since he’d been this far away from Privet Drive and school! 

 

He quickly started to jog over to where the directory was before someone yelled: “Potter!” Which while Potter was a very common name in this part of England, Harry turned to a man in a dark suit with greasy black hair flopping in the wind behind him as he-- as he ran right towards Harry! 

 

Letting out a yelp, Harry dashed away from the man who might have known the Dursleys and probably planned to murder him while they were out. He was being trailed by a hit man! Okay, confuse him. Left. Right. Up the fire escape, down the fire escape on the other side, right, left, left! 

 

Harry was quick on his feet from years of running away from Dudley, but somehow the man seemed to be right behind him wherever he went!  _ Did anyone else see this? Are you kidding? There’s a hit man after a ten year old boy and you’re just standing there talking about your daughter’s swim team, Barbara!  _ He didn’t know if the redhead's name was Barbara, but he really liked Barbara Gordon from Batman. 

 

“Potter, for Merlin’s sake!”

 

Right, homicidal maniac sneering his way into the graces of the Dursleys was currently chasing him. Forgot about that one. However, the voice seemed close, and well, Harry gave up, backing up to a wall of some alley and tried to cover his face and chest. 

 

Wait. Merlin?

 

“Potter, have you no sense?” The voice was low and angry, but...different than what Aunt Petunia or Uncle Vernon sounded like. “I’m not going to hit you, put down your arms.”

 

Slowly, Harry lowered his arms to find himself face to face with a man who looked...what….thirty-three? With a hook nose and a sneer to match that of...well, he couldn’t think of anyone with such a severe sneer. 

 

Putting down his arms he also managed to glance around the alley-- all brick surrounding them, one way alley, and a smelly trash bin right beside them. 

 

“What are you doing?” The man asked, looking as if he wanted to throttle Harry. Perhaps he did. Perhaps this was all just a way to get him away from prying eyes to murder him with a steak knif-- “Are you simple? Potter, listen to me!”

 

As the adrenaline faded out of his system, Harry suddenly found himself breathing heavy as fear gripped at his core and refused to let loose. He opened his mouth to respond, but his body had other ideas, trying to inhale oxygen into lungs that very much did not want to do that. Oh, oh no, his head was getting all fuzzy again and what thifwasi--

 

His eyes slid shut.

 

\--

 

“Well, I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting that,” the man muttered under his breath once Harry came to. Came to lying on the floor of some shop, rather than the dirty alley they were in previously. “Are you functioning?”

 

Harry nodded mutely. 

 

“...After all that, I’m assuming you have no idea who I am?”

 

Harry shook his head, pulling his legs up to his chest in an attempt to comfort himself. The man had lost his sneer and overcoat, but his face still remained in a...resting bitch face, if he had to put a name to the look. 

 

“My name is Severus Snape,” the man-- Severus-- explained in what seemed to be the gentlest way he could. “I was sent to see why you were so far away from the Dursley residence without notice.”

 

Knitting his eyebrows together, Harry tried to think of why anyone would wonder about his whereabouts-- and why they got notice about such a thing. An idea popped into Harry’s head. “Sir, if you can tell me why the information is required, I’ll tell you. If not, I’m going to scream bloody murder until someone comes by.”

 

A shadow of both pure hatred and mild surprise flitted over Severus’ features so quick that if Harry were not an expert on reading looks of pure hatred and mild surprise, he’d never have noticed. “Very well.” The man looked very put upon, as if this were the very last thing he wanted to do. “It’s for your safety-- Professor Dumbledore requested I check on you, lest you’d been kidnapped.”

 

Suddenly, Sirius’ letter slammed to the front of his mind. “You know Albus Dumbledore?”

 

Severus raised his eyebrow in an annoyed manner, telling all that needed to be said about that question. 

 

Harry swallowed rough, thinking about his godfather. “Do- do you teach at Hogwarts? Or, or….Or is that merely a fairy tale from a dumb letter?” It hurt to think about-- this odd ultimatum that could prove or deny the hope he’d been clinging to for years and years. A chance away from those damned Dursleys who have beaten him black and blue all the way to green and yellow...all riding on a man who he’d met twenty minutes ago that chased him until he passed out. Classy, that.

“What kind of letter had you received?” Severus asked shrewdly, glancing around the area paranoidly. Absently, Harry wondered what shop they were at and what time it was. 

 

Thinking on his toes, he said, “I got a letter when I was awfully young from Albus Dumbledore mentioning magic and Hogwarts-- but it was trashed once my Aunt found out about it.”

Another shadow crossed the man’s face, but this one Harry couldn’t place, so he sat patiently for a response. Moments passed. “I do know  _ Professor _ Dumbledore, and, yes, I too am I professor at Hogwarts-- your letter was far from a fairy tale.”

 

Harry felt himself grow so, so terribly happy that he could not contain his grin. “Truly? I...What do you teach?”

 

“Potions,” Severus-- er, he’s a professor….so...Professor Snape said shortly. For a moment he seemed to be reassessing Harry, of what cause, he had no idea. “It’s much like cooking but far, far more complicated. Perhaps chemistry is a better comparison. Only wizards and witches can do such a subject.”

 

With a sudden lurch, Harry pushed his legs away from him, struggling to stand up quickly. He had to get a book-- or-- or learn something or grab something before the Dursleys can figure out that he knows magic and he knows that he’ll--

 

“Slow down there, Mr. Potter,” Snape said sharply. “What’s with the haste?”

 

“The haste, sir? Why...Why I need to find a book, or something, something to study from...I suppose I have no basis...and you’re the teacher,” Harry started muttering towards the end, noting his error. “Sorry, I just...I wasn’t sure if other people did magic, or...or if I truly was a freak, and I’m just...excited to learn. I’m sorry.”

 

It seemed as if it hurt to say, but the Professor nodded and said, “Think nothing of it. You are not a...freak, nor anything of the likes. Have the Dursleys truly told you nothing of your world?”

 

“No, sir,” Harry panicked, “Should I already be doing something? Will I be awfully behind? I don’t know where to find books to study otherwise I would, sir, I would I just--”

 

“Slow down,” Snape repeated. “...While it is not ideal, you will be fine. Many wizards know nothing of the wizarding world before they attend Hogwarts….Still, you have not answered my question: why are you not at home? Have you...run away?” 

 

Snape still looked as if he was in pain, being cordial, but as Harry had no reason to expect a man he just met to have such cordiality, he found himself not caring. “No, sir, it’s Dudley’s birthday today and I’m not allowed to go in public with them after last year, so they handed me a few pounds and said they’d pick me up at six-- they’re off to the zoo, I think.”

 

In a moment’s notice, an icily angry look took over Snape’s face, his pale features contorting into a look of pure loathing. Harry felt a stab of worry go through his chest, but he refused to move, lest the man decide to hit him at a sudden movement. A few moments passed before Snape asked carefully, “You’re ten, correct?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“How many pounds have you been given?” 

 

“Three, sir.”

 

“And they left you here with no means of communication nor any supervisor?” Suddenly, it made sense. Snape wasn’t angry at Harry-- he was angry at the Dursleys. He found a sudden air of calm surrounding him, making him relax more than he’d been since he first heard his last name being yelled. 

 

“That would be correct. Are you...mad at them? ‘Cause that’s not normal, right?” Something they did wasn’t normal! They could be the freaks! Not him! 

 

“You would be correct, Mr. Potter, that is far from normal,” Snape rose from the chair he had been sitting in. “Do you trust me?”

 

“Not wholeheartedly, sir,” Harry admitted after a moment. “What reason do I have to?”

 

A smirk found a way to Snape’s mouth, “Very smart for a child, I see...What will it take for you to trust me?”   
  


Harry had to think for a second, running over any and all possibilities, eventually landing on, “If you can tell me the name of my godfather and why he’s in prison, I’ll believe you.”

 

It didn’t seem at all possible that Snape could get paler, yet he managed it. Through gritted teeth, the man answered, “Your godfather’s name is Sirius Black and he betrayed your parents to the Dark Lord, leading to their deaths.”

 

The Dark Lord part was new, but the rest was correct. 

 

“Okay, I trust you,” Harry said, cautiously. 

 

“As simple as that? Why, I thought you’d be brighter, that’s public knowledge to many.”

 

“Well, sir, if you’d wanted to kill me, you’d have done it by now, if you were just agreeing with what I said, you wouldn’t have been able to answer that question, and...you seem quite smart, at least, so you’d know that hauling a child off without complete cooperation from both parties would ring some red flags-- and you could use magic, but something tells me you’re not supposed to.”

 

There was a long moment before Snape nodded, motioning towards the door, “Well, then I believe I have quite a few people to put some sense into, and you’ll be quite a good witness, yes?”

 

“Yeah, yeah okay.” Harry pulled his jacket tighter around him before he stepped out the door to find himself in-- a bookshop! “Woah.”

 

“No time to dally quite yet….but I’ll see to it that you can return here soon,” Snape said in a tone that seemed far less forced than before....Harry wondered why. Did he finally prove his worth? 

 

Absently, he wondered if that question should be thought by a ten year old.

 

\--

 

“...Where are we going?” Harry asked as he sat down next to Snape in the cab. “‘Cause it’s four fifty and Aunt Petunia said to be back by six, if not, I’m sure Uncle Vernon will appreciate a nice shade of blue to accent the house.” 

 

Snape’s face contorted into the now familiar look of complete and utter loathing. “We’re going to the Ministry building so we can talk to Professor Dumbledore.”

 

“Does he work there too?”

 

“Not often, but he’s there with his collegue currently, so I suppose it’d be the quickest route to him.”

 

“What are you going to talk to him about? Should I ready a statement?”

 

Snape was fond of pauses, Harry noted as the seconds ticked past. “I’m sure you’ll find out and your honesty would be fine-- however, I must ask….you speak like you are far older than ten, why is that?”

 

“Well, I read, sir, whenever I can,” Harry said fondly. “In my cupboard I have my favorite books, you see, they’re all stacked up next to my bed so when I can’t sleep or when I’m hurt or anything, I have a book there to comfort me….That does sound terribly childish, doesn’t it?…Still, with reading so much I just...pick it up?”

 

Snape ‘hmm’ed and fiddled with his sleeve, seemingly without thought. Left sleeve only. Huh. 

 

\--

 

“...Lucius,” Snape drawled back into the cold voice Harry had first heard from him. “Have you brought your child once again?”

 

The tall blond man with cold, grey eyes stared down at Harry with such an intensity he wasn’t sure if the man’s goal was to make him combust. “Why, yes, I did. Have you brought yours?”

 

“He’s not mine,” Snape said sharply, “You know that. I need to speak to Albus, can you... _ not _ kill my charge?”

 

“I suppose,” Harry had the sudden urge to bolt. To bolt and run far, far away. Move to America? No, too far. Ireland? Perhaps Ireland would--

 

“Who’re’u?” A nasally childish voice questioned behind him. “You don’t seem like a wizard, what are you doing here?!”

 

“Draco,” Both men intoned in tight voices. 

 

Harry spun around to see a blond boy just around his age-- Draco, as it seemed. He held his tongue, letting the adults respond to this before he intervened.  

 

“That is Harry,” Snape exhaled sharply through his nose. “And you will be cordial to him or face the consequences profoundly in your future.”

 

Harry was very, very confused. 

 

He was also very, very scared when Snape took off just a split second later.

 

So much for the man’s fondness for moments.

 

\--

 

“Wake up,” a voice said sharply, making Harry stir awake slowly. Awake? That meant he was asleep? He glanced over his shoulder to see-- Draco? Oh! They had just been talking about fingernails and then they must have fallen asleep. 

 

His eyes darted over to where Snape and some other, much older, wizard was standing. He had white hair and a big long white beard to match it-- was this Dumbledore?

 

“Draco,” Harry whispered, “Draco, come on, wake up.” Nothing.

 

“The boy sleeps like the dead, Mr. Potter, it’s a fruitless endeavor,” Snape said with...fondness? 

 

Harry took heed to Snape’s advice and simply let the boy slump over to the ground as he stood up to greet the...wizards. What an odd term...

 

“Harry, my boy,” The older wizard addressed him in a peculiar manner. “Will you come with us for a short moment, to see if we should return you to your guardians?”

 

“I suppose so, sir,” Harry said, though a stab of worry hit him. He may have to go back with them, and it’s far past six and they’d skin him alive and they’d never let himoutofthehouseand--

 

“Can you take off your jacket?” Snape asked as they stepped into a nicely furnished office, snapping Harry out of his thoughts. 

 

“Why?” Harry knew he had bruises under there, and, he knew, quite frankly, that’s probably what they were looking for. Still…

 

Snape raised a perfectly questioning eyebrow. 

 

“Fine, okay,” he took off his jacket, showing his arms-- a battering of green and yellows from his last…Freakish activity. “Okay. Is that what you wanted to see?”

 

Snape looked an alarming shade of grey. “I did not want to see it, Mr. Potter, but it does prove my point. Doesn’t it, Albus?”

 

Dumbledore looked composed, but ever slightly panicked. “I suppose it does. However, you know what this will mean, Severus.”

 

“I do,” the words were sharp as knives. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then, now that this is settled?”

 

“It is settled.”

 

Harry had no idea what was settled.

 

\--

 

“Professor Snape,” Harry started cautiously as they sat in yet another cab. “What’s settled?”

 

The man looked terribly tired, he noted with shame, perhaps he shouldn’t say anything. A beat passed before-- “Well, your guardians are not fit to be guardians, and the magic that was supposed to keep you safe is no longer, so you are being relocated.”

 

“Magic…The Dursleys…Oh, oh! It has to do with my mum, right? Because they were related, or something...I read it in a book once...perhaps it’s not applicable to real magic but--”

 

“I’ll cut you off there. You are correct, it’s blood magic. Very old and very powerful if done correctly, but this?” Snape gestured to Harry’s arms. “This makes it useless, do you understand?” Harry nodded mutely. “Then, I suppose, you’re wondering where you’ll be going. For the moment? You’re going with me...As I am the one who found you, and am…Qualified. Currently, however, we’re going to retrieve your belongings and I need to yell at Tuney-- pardon, Petunia. And Vernon. Then I need to-- you’re a child, I won’t tell you that.”

 

Harry felt oddly grateful for the consideration. 

 

“Do I truly not have to go back?”

 

“Truly,” Snape, once again, looked terribly tired. “And when we’re done there, we’ll be going to my residence.”

 

Harry felt like a terrible burden.

 

\--

 

After feeling sick to his stomach, watching the Dursleys project such hate and prejudice towards him-- not only for his magic, but for his skin, his scar, his brain, and so much more he couldn’t bear to hear more of before going into his cupboard and getting everything he wanted out of there.

 

His books.

 

His stars.

 

His clothes.

 

But, most importantly, the letter from Sirius. He wondered if he’d get an early start on the plan, with Professor Snape’s help….Though, as much as he admired and truly trusted the man, he didn’t trust him with  _ this _ matter. 

 

He needed to find Remus Lupin.

 

\--

 

“We’re about to Apparate, are you ready?” Snape asked in an oddly soothing tone, compared to his normal grit. It had been a long ten minutes of explanation and bringing down Harry from another panic attack, but he was ready.

 

Harry held on tight to his bag and Snape’s arm as he nodded.

 

Then, with a crack, he had the odd sensation of feeling himself be pulled through a tube by a vacuum cleaner, then shot right out. He felt as if he’d puke, actually.

 

“Take a deep breath,” Snape ordered, a sigh in his voice. “You’re fine.”

 

“Ugh,” was Harry’s oh-so-eloquent response. 

 

Harry felt that if Snape was someone who rolled his eyes, he would have, likely, with such force that he’d strain himself. “Come along, I need to get you to a proper bed before I call everyone I know to find you a suitable residence.”

 

Harry diligently followed the professor up the stairs to what looked to be a guest bedroom. Once he looked at it, he felt yet another odd sensation-- liquid from his eyes. Tears. He was…He was crying? He looked over at Snape worriedly-- why was he crying? 

 

Snape looked blatantly distressed. Harry felt distressed. It was very distressing. 

 

It seemed like an insticutal movement, as when Snape opened up his arms, his eyes went wide and more panicked than Harry had ever seen him. Still, Harry took it and hugged the man as he cried.

 

Everything...Everything’s…Everything’s changed. And...for the better, it seemed. 

 

It was still…A shock. 

 

Snape’s arms slowly wrapped around him. 

 

Harry didn’t remember the last time he’d been hugged.


	2. Emotional Cues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry can read people pretty well....well, he can read authority figures pretty well, he's pants at reading his peers....which we'll see. later.
> 
> it's very late and my editing could also be pants but i'll fix that later
> 
> for now,,,,,,wAKE UP POTTER

Harry woke up the next morning and nearly fell off the bed due to his panic. Where was he? Was he kidnapped? What---

 

The previous day’s memories hit him like speeding bullets to every vital organ. Magic: it was real. Severus Snape: nice? Dursleys: out of his life.

 

That was odd…The Dursleys were out of his life. Because…Because well, they were being… Strange. They were and he wasn’t, and Harry felt nauseous thinking about the flip to it all. They hated him for so many more reasons than he could count and they would never be able to say those things to him again. They could face criminal charges. 

 

And Harry…He didn’t know how to feel about that. They weren’t ideal guardians, but they were his family. And he loved them, he thought so, at least, so shouldn’t it hurt? His chest felt oddly hollow. Maybe it does. Maybe this is what it’s like.

 

A yell from downstairs made him snap out of his thoughts and jump out of bed. Quickly, Harry put on his glasses and inched down the stairs-- grabbing an umbrella that was resting in the closet to Professor Snape’s guest bedroom without so much as a second thought. 

 

As he neared the base of the stairs, he heard two distinct male voices having a bit of a row. One of them was Professor Snape-- the man’s gravelly voice was unmistakable, but the other one he lacked a clue to.

 

“Severus,” the other voice said sharply, “I have a right, you know. The ministry can take away a great many things, but they cannot take away a dead man’s will and toss it like a receipt. If not for Dumbledore’s insistence that he was in safe hands due to that damned blood magic, I would have reported this immediately! You are not to fault about this, so stop taking the blame, and lend me my rights or god help you!”

 

“You know I am not liable…” Snape’s voice was filled with malice, but a touch of sincerity lingered. 

 

“I don’t give a rat’s ass! I’ve been cordial as I could manage up until this point, I don’t want to make a habit of my temper but--” 

 

“Oh, do shut up! I must go, please do and try refraining yourself from attempting to find my residence-- I’ll contact you shortly.” Snape let out a huff of breath, seemingly working himself down from the high that comes from yelling at someone-- Harry was rather fond of the feeling, but hated the aftermath of guilt. 

 

His stomach churned again as it brought up a memory of Dudley. 

 

“Potter, you are not sneaky, come down here at once.” Harry’s body was being attacked from all over, as his heart started beating rather quickly from panic while the whole of his chest felt like a weight had been added to it. Snape gave him a hug last night and now he was being all snappy and rude-- Harry wondered if it was from the yell--

 

He suddenly found himself face to face with the professor’s menacing sneer, which was odd to see paired with the man’s snake-themed pajama pants. “It’s quite rude to eavesdrop, child, I know your guardians weren’t the best role models, so I’ll let this one slide, but if you hear me talking and it’s not towards you, yet you still listen in? You will not enjoy the consequences.”

 

Harry decided, quite suddenly, he didn’t like this version of Snape at all. Perhaps he should avoid the man altogether if this is a possibility. Consequences usually ended up with him having bruised arms and occasional concussions, and frankly, he was not ready to repeat his situation so soon after meeting Snape. Perhaps he could learn to be better.

 

“--Potter, breathe,” Snape’s voice came back to the front of his mind, but this time it was much calmer, much, much nicer indeed. Absently, Harry opened his eyes and wondered when they’d closed. “Breathe, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…” His voice trailed of, unsure of what to do, it seemed. Harry didn’t know what to do either. All he knew is that he felt rather tired despite having just woken up. 

 

Harry took a big breath and lowered the umbrella from in front of him. Snape didn’t seem to be angry anymore, just lost. “Sir,” Harry started softly, unsure of where he was going with this, “I’m sorry. I heard a crash and didn’t know what to expect...I thought you may not have wanted me in the room once I heard you talking and everything. I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I didn’t know.” His voice took a pleading tone in the end. “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again I just--” 

 

“Apology accepted,” the man cutted in, an odd expression across his features. “I’m sorry for snapping at you as well, I’ve just...I’ve had a rather trying morning. Perhaps we can remedy that with some breakfast?”

 

Harry nodded thankfully before following the man down towards the kitchen, where Harry propped the umbrella against the wall. The kitchen was a beautiful thing, full of all sorts of mixers and supplies, but it, horridly, was dusty and mucky and needed cleaning yesterday. However, Harry held his tongue on the state of the place, it would be rude and perhaps Snape’s earlier threats applied to other misdeeds. 

 

“What would you like for breakfast?” Snape asked in a careful tone. Harry wondered why he’d be careful-- he was the adult, he had the jurisdiction to do whatever he pleased in his own home-- or perhaps that’s just what Uncle Vernon said. But they were  _ strange _ , so perhaps that’s not the norm. 

 

Harry thought on it, he’d really never ate breakfast foods, rather, usually just getting lunch and dinner. He did, however, love the smell of bacon. Perhaps he could ask for that? “Could I try bacon, if you have it?” 

 

It felt rather nice to be asked in the first place, but it felt so much worse actually answering. So he blurted out a quick remedy: “If that’s what you want, I don’t mind at all actually, I usually don’t have breakfast anyhow.”

 

Snape still moved very cautiously, Harry noted nervously, as the man pulled out a skillet. “I would not mind bacon, however, you must not skip out on breakfast as you didn’t have dinner last night.”

 

“I don’t have dinner a grand many nights, sir, it’s nothing to odd,” Harry tried to comfort the man who seemed to have felt some guilt over it. The look of disgust he was aiming at the skillet made it seem as if that was the exact opposite thing of what he should have said.

 

“It is quite odd, Mr. Potter,” the man said smoothly as he went to the fridge to grab a package of bacon. “But you are not at fault for it. For my sake, I hope you eat three meals a day at least while you’re still growing, improper nutrition can lead to a great many health problems later on.”

 

Harry blinked owlishly as Snape started to open the package-- something that he  _ knew _ Aunt Petunia loathed to do for packages of bacon. “Let me do that, sir, I can cook. It’s the least I can do for you, letting me stay here and all for the time being.”

 

Snape paused, glancing over at Harry, reading him as if he were a book. Harry did not enjoy the feeling, he tried to make a smooth transition to a look of calmness, but his heart, mind, and body were all in such a tizzy from the day past that the look didn’t last long. Plus, it’s not like it was his aunt, uncle, cousin, or regular teacher, he didn’t know what look would benefit him most. It was like a game of...Oh...Russian Roulette? Was that what it was called-?

 

“--Do you enjoy cooking?” 

 

Harry stared at the man for a moment, thinking over the question. “I suppose I do, I never really thought about it….Does that mean I can cook?”

 

Another odd look seized the professor’s face, but he nodded. “I’ll make us some eggs while you work on the bacon, so I can watch and make sure you don’t hurt yourself.”

 

“What does it matter if I hurt myself?” Harry winced right as it came out of his mouth. “I mean, it does matter, of course, to me, I mean, I don’t mean to hurt myself nor am I too careless to do it often but--”

 

“If it matters to you,” Snape said with something of a begrudging acceptance, “it matters to me. And many, many more things matter to me that don’t matter to you. Such as your three meals a day.”

 

Harry didn’t know what to say to that, so he simply started cooking, feeling as if the floor had fallen out from under him.

 

\--

 

Breakfast was a quiet affair, Snape silently watching Harry, and Harry doing the same to him. The eggs were amazing and the bacon was too, Harry believed he found his new favorite food: bacon, but it did give him a rather queasy stomach. Or maybe that was the eggs? He wasn’t sure, but he surely wasn’t going to say anything about it.

 

When Snape got up and came back with the mail while Harry was finishing his bacon, Harry was suddenly reminded of Sirius. His godfather must really be true, even if his innocence needed to be proven...the jury was still out on that one….He remembered the day before when Snape had spoke about Sirius, the...contempt in his tone. It implied either strong moral code or a personal connection to the man or the crime. And, frankly, by watching Snape, Harry was convinced he had the moral code to fit whatever benefitted him most in that moment, with the Dursleys-- wait, no, Snape had called his aunt  _ Tuney _ which meant they knew each other, lest he be making nicknames, which he found quite unlikely so that meant--

 

“Professor Snape,” Harry called out cautiously, going red as the man looked up from a letter, “Did you know my mum?”

 

“Your aunt mentioned me?” Snape asked cooly, but it bordered on the side of rage. 

 

“Well-- well-- no, sir, it was a bit of an educated guess,” he mumbled, picking up his fork to move around the last bit of egg on his plate. “Because of  _ Tuney,  _ and your actions, and well, your tone changed a whole awful lot when you talked ‘bout Sirius Black and all implying a personal connection and well, I guessed you knew my mum.”

 

Snape did that thing again, the look where he was reassessing Harry like a new variable had been added to the equation. Harry didn’t know how to feel about that. 

 

“I did know your mother,” Snape said with an odd air of finality in his tone. Harry wanted him to expand so, _ so bad _ . He didn’t know anything about his mum aside her name and he just  _ wanted to know _ \-- just  _ one _ thing about her. Did she like the flower that she was named after? Did she have magic too? Is that why Aunt Petunia hated her? Did she like to read? Was she pretty? Did she like the outdoors? Did she have allergies? Was she religious?

 

Ignoring the bell of warning in his head, Harry asked one more question, “Did she love my dad?” In his books, the parents of their children were always in love, at least for some time. 

 

Slamming his hands on the table, Snape pushed himself up. “That will be  _ enough _ . I will be in my study, there’s a bookshelf in the guest room-- read.” And he ran. He ran like….Harry had to think up a word to fit it. 

 

He ran like a  _ coward _ . 

 

\--

 

Harry wanted to sulk, and swear, and punch a wall, and throw a tantrum just like his cousin-- but he had some level of self-restraint. And...A weight of guilt. What about that question made Snape so angry? Were his parents not in love? Did Snape...love one of them? Or was it just the fact that they were dead and Snape didn’t dwell well on the past, his last maths teacher was like that.

 

Eventually, Harry managed to pull himself up the stairs to the guest room to look at the books he had been to exhausted to notice before. There was a wall full of them, he thought in amazement. Books of all sorts. Many read about potions, which only made sense of Snape was in fact a potions teacher, others were about logic tricks, some were normal maths and English textbooks, and many others looked like textbooks...that were from the magical world. Charms, Transfiguration (wasn’t his dad great at that? It sounds like something Sirius wrote about), and herbology. 

 

He pulled out one of the smaller textbooks for potions, hoping to read it so when Professor Snape wasn’t so mad at him, perhaps he’d impress him, just a bit. It said it was a first year book, so Harry sat at the little desk, pulled out a notebook that he’d brought from his cupboard and a stolen pen from school, and started to read and take notes of main ideas and supporting details just like he did in class.

 

(Next he’d work on Transfiguration.)

\--

 

Harry didn’t know how long it had been when he heard music playing downstairs, but he knew he was nearly half way through the book and had learned so much in such a short period his brain was only working in formulas. Professor Snape was right about the chemistry/cooking mashup metaphor, it was about taste and smell and color and everything that cooking has, but it was so much more-- it was how chemicals broke down and reacted-- though, that wasn’t covered in the first year book, it was referenced then refered the reader to a fourth year book, so he had a while to go. 

 

Still, the music broke him out of his concentration and Harry wanted to talk to Snape again, mentally drafting an apology in his head, though he still didn’t know what he did wrong. He rarely does know, he thought a tad bitterly.  _ He just wants to know so he can do something about it. _

 

He closed up the book and set his notes aside before carefully toeing his way downstairs. While not knowing what to expect, it was odd seeing Snape, who he’d come to know as a sharp, cunning man, laying back on a couch with a green jumper he hadn’t had on before paired with the snake-themed sleeping trousers….two very different greens that clashed horribly, to be frank. All the while with one of his legs in the air and both of his hands on a massive book, holding it above his head.

 

Managing to refrain himself from bursting out into giggles, Harry cleared his throat with a small smile, the studying finally making him feel normal again. “Sir?”

 

The flinch of surprise was minor, so very minor that if Harry weren’t a bit overly observant on those sorts of things, he’d have never noticed. However, the big book that fell out of Snape’s hands and onto his face was a bit less subtle and probably quite painful. “Are you alright?” Harry asked a bit worriedly, rushing over. 

 

Snape, slowly, moved the book from his face. He didn’t appear hurt, of which Harry was thankful for, but he did have a smothered look of amusement that Harry didn’t have a clue as to how it was caused. “Yes, I’m fine.” He put his leg down and spun around so he was properly sitting on the couch. “I keep forgetting you’re here. Are you...alright?” 

 

The man seemed so caught off guard that Harry was caught off guard. “Er, yes, I am, I just heard the music and wanted to come down to apologize for what I said earlier. Or, asked, I mean, I’m sorry-- I didn’t know-- I supposed I should have but--”

 

With a pinched look, Snape held up a hand, “It’s my fault that I got so...emotional. I wouldn’t expect it to be a common occurrence...I’ll tell you about your mother...tomorrow. Just a few questions, if you would. Prepare them as you see fit.”

 

A smattering of ideas clouded Harry’s brain before he mentally dismissed them, he had to focus. “I-- thank you.”

 

Harry awkwardly stood in front of Snape, who was….was there a snake with a crown on it on the jumper? “Sir, if I may….what- what are you wearing?”

 

Snape looked down then seemed surprised with the clothes he was wearing, before he looked up. “It was a gift from a student who recently got a job at St. Mungo’s for brewing antidotes, while I refuse to wear them at school, I...wear them in private, on occasion. I, again, forgot you were here…” He seemed to berate himself for a moment, then he looked back up. “Speaking of clothes, perhaps we should take a trip to Diagon Alley to get you some more. And your school supplies while we’re at it…” 

 

( _ DIAGON ALLEY!!  _ Harry’s mental bells rang and rang.  _ DIAGON ALLEY!!! _ )

 

“While that’d be great,” Harry said nervously, “I don’t have any money and I don’t want to impose on you…’specially ‘cause you’re letting me be here and feeding me and such until someone else can take me in…”

 

“You’re far from poor, Potter,” Snape softly snorted, standing up and walking over to a dresser that held an old TV on it. He opened a drawer to pull out a small key, showing it to Harry. “Your parents-- your father,” father sounded like a swear from Snape’s diction of the word, “was rather well off, not to mention you hold the banks of your….jailed godfather.”

 

Father and Godfather were so very….poignant and annoyed. And, Harry had the running theory that what Snape showed was only a mere shadow of the full force of his emotions. It seemed like sometimes he did quite well at masking them and other times, like when Harry asked about his mum, he would just snap. He’d read that wasn’t great for the human psyche. 

 

Still, it made him wonder, what about those two words made Snape so very touchy about them? Was it the actual people Whomever Potter and Sirius Black? He knew that everyone thought his godfather a traitor and murderer, but he didn’t think his father would have...well, Harry mentally winced, he didn’t really know his dad. He only knew what the Dursleys told him and Harry couldn’t bring himself to believe anything they said, but  _ what if? _ What if he truly was a drunk? Even if his death was caused by murder rather than a car crash?  

 

“Potter--” Snape started, startling Harry out of his thoughts again.  _ Again! He’s so….stuck in his head today! _

 

“--Harry,” He interrupted, “Please call me Harry. If you’re not mad at me, please, please just call me Harry, I panic everytime you say Potter. Or James, even, if it works better for you, just...not Potter, please?”

 

“I refuse to call you James for so many reasons I cannot describe,” Snape hissed, then sighed as he reigned in his temper. “But I suppose I could call you Harry, however, in the classroom setting I must call you Potter, I call everyone by their last names in class.”

 

“That works for me, sir, thanks,” Harry thanked him before shaking his head. “I totally spaced out! I’m sorry, the key! What does that have to do with money?”

 

“For vaults?” Snape asked with a raised eyebrow as if that were a normal thing.

 

“Why not...credit cards?” 

 

“....Muggle items are frowned upon in the wizarding world.”

 

“Muggle? Does that mean non-magical?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Why the stigma?”

 

Snape put the key back calmly before turning to Harry with his hand behind his back, a look of contemplation on his face. “At surface measures, magic and technology rarely mesh without a great deal of work, which is why you may find that many magical items seem very outdated.There’s a great many other reasons, based on values of the oldest wizarding families in England and the rest of Europe. They say that muggles are inferior and thus they are ill-likely to create something useful.”

 

“Does that mean that wizarding kids don’t have Bill Nye the Science Guy?” Harry asked, suddenly distressed for the kids that grew up in the world. 

 

Snape looked very much as if he wanted to drop the topic entirely or laugh but his weird emotional blanket didn’t let him do either. “That would be correct.”

 

“...You seem distressed, uh, is there like, a book I could read on it?”

 

“I’m sure there is,” he looked just the slightest bit relieved. “However, I’m not distressed.”

 

Liar.

 

“Okay, sir.”

 

“I’m not.”

 

“I know, sir.”

 

“...Go get dressed we’re going for lunch.”

 

“Alright, sir.”

 

Snape sneered at him, but Harry found himself beaming. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> snape is like: alright, u r 70% mother and i still want to not like you because you do have moments that are 10000% your dad but okay you're pretty decent, for a child,,,,,sometimes
> 
> oooh but don't worry we'll get that full rage from severus snape soon enough don't worry ur little heads,,,,
> 
> also,,,,,u can probably guess who was talking to snape at the start of the chapter, so drop me a comment to guess it if u would


	3. Luncheon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and,,,,,lunch,,,,and,,,,snape is bad at communicating,,,,however,,,,,a young blond boy,,,,is not,,,,,

Snape had apparated Harry and himself to  _ Diagon Alley _ which made Harry’s heart beat like crazy for  _ so _ many reasons. But sadly, they weren’t getting supplies first, they actually had to go and eat lunch which seemed like an awful waste of time, but he remembered the look that Snape had given that poor skillet earlier that day and he refrained on mentioning that particular thought. Instead of going to the bank, his soon-to-be-professor led him into what looked like a diner if it had been in the early 1800’s.

 

“This place doesn’t have a gas oven, does it?” Harry asked curiously.

 

“Muggle item.”

 

“I see...but the fridge?”

 

“...Magic,” Snape supplied, uselessly.

 

“Never would have guessed, sir.”

 

“I will not be taking cheek from you Mr- Harry. No cheek in public, at least, I have a reputation to maintain. And said reputation is general disdain, which is rapidly growing  _ at your cheek.” _

 

Harry wasn’t sure if he should feel abashed or proud, oddly, he felt a mix of the two. Eventually the other patrons came into view and...Snape was motioning over to a table with people at it. With a mother and her son. Her son,  _ Draco Malfoy.  _

 

“You never told me there were going to be other people here,” Harry hissed at Snape, a tad frantically as he looked over himself. “I’m not prepared for this, I don’t have proper adjustment nor attire are you--

 

“Harry!”  Oh no. 

 

Harry looked frantically over to Snape, who was pointedly looking at the woman who Draco was with, which left Harry to fend for himself. Some of that rage from earlier in the day slammed to the forefront of his mind. 

 

_ Stupid Severus Snape and his delicate emotions and his stupid pajama pants and his stupid greasy hair the stupid greasy git does he evenshowerwhatthehell-- _

 

Draco stood in front of him, beaming, with a...package in his hand. “I heard a bit about your situation from my mother who heard it from father who heard it from Uncle Sev, who’s with you! So I thought what I’d like most if I was just brought into our world, and I had my mom buy it for you!” 

Harry felt so very conflicted. One one hand, Draco Malfoy was a smug, slimy, too intelligent, ass-kissing  _ child _ , but on the other hand he was also kind, understanding, informative and generally educated, and he had the terrible habit of making Harry feel far too  _ at ease _ in unknown situations (such as the day previous where they talked about a sport called Quidditch). And he was cunning and snarky and  _ brilliant _ . And he was offering Harry a gift with a smile on his face...one that Harry had no idea of why it was there. At all.

 

Hesitantly, Harry took the gift, “I don’t have anything for you, Professor Snape didn’t say we were meeting anyone.”

 

While he looked a little disappointed, Draco shook his head with a kind smile, “I understand, he’s pretty likely to forget to clue in others on the situation.” Kind. Understanding. Making Harry feel all too at ease. Balls. “Well, open it!”

 

Snorting, Harry opened the gift to see...a dress? No, no, Snape was wearing one of these, Draco was wearing a similar one. “Uh, what is this?”

 

There was a bright look in Draco’s eyes as he explained, “They’re called robes. There’s so many styles even I couldn’t tell you! I got you ones kinda like Sev’s, ‘cause you’re his ward right now and everything-- but they have a full suit underneath because I know you grew up with muggle wear and you’re already thrown into the deep end and--”

 

Before Draco could ramble on more, Harry gave Draco a wide smile, “Thank you so much. Would you like me to switch into them?”

 

While Draco was a great deal taller than him, at least two or maybe three inches, and he was two months older than Harry, Harry still felt as if he were talking to a child when he got into the big ramblings of excessive information. Especially the emotional factor to like, everything. The Durs-- no, no, not going there. After spending a solid  _ three hours _ with him the day previous, he’d learned a bit about the kid, er….nah, kid. He’s a kid. Harry’s a kid. They’re  _ children.  _ That was weird to think about. And part of the time he was just like this and the rest of the time he was...just like Harry, if a tad naive. 

 

“--Why, yes, it’d make you blend in an awful lot more.” Draco must have been waiting for him to do something, so Harry gave him a tight smile before scanning the odd restaurant for a bathroom.

 

“....Ah, Draco? Where’s the loo in this place?”

 

“Let me show you!”

 

The tightness that was in Draco’s shoulders fell nearly as soon as they were out of his mother’s view. In fact, so many things changed so rapidly about Draco’s body language and facial expression Harry felt a tad overwhelmed. Draco just...relaxed, like, a ton. It was like the day before.

 

“Uh, Draco, are you okay?”

 

“Oh, me? I’m fine, it’s just easier to act that way around my parents,” Draco smirked, “a child is far more likely to get away with things than a young man. Which we are, right when we start Hogwarts this year, at least that’s what my father said, so I’m keeping up the facade for as long as I can manage it.” There’s his favorite Draco. 

 

“Oh good, I thought you’d been replaced by a hyperactive primary first year,” Harry teased as they paused at the door to the bathroom, which Draco opened and let Harry through, locking the door behind him. “Er, why are you in here?”

 

“Do you know how to put on a suit to begin with?” His blonde, stupidly smart friend said in a stupidly knowing tone. This was stupid. 

 

“No.” So stupid.

 

“Then let me help you, it’s not like you’re a girl or anything….” Draco raised an eyebrow as Harry still just stared at him. “...Are you?”

 

“No? I’m pretty sure I’m a boy.”

 

Draco rolled his eyes, so Harry took that as a cue to take off his jacket. He nervously started unbuttoning his shirt, and blurted out, “I, uh, kind of am, -er, covered in bruises? And uh, I know it makes people uncomfortable, and I’m fine, but I dunno if you….”

 

In a split second, Draco unbuttoned the cuffs on his sleeves and slid them up to his elbows. “I got these from falling off my broom and into a tree, I have no worries about seeing your bruises, Potter.”

 

“Don’t call me that,” Harry muttered as Draco buttoned his cuffs again and he himself took off his shirt. 

 

Draco gave him a searching look, but didn’t comment and simply nodded. Weird, kids were weird, Harry thought idly as he picked up the shirt from the box. The shirt was crisp and white and looked nicer than anything he’d ever owned, possibly even nicer than anything Dudley had either...What did Draco want from him?

 

“These are nice.”

 

“Astute.”

 

“Too nice for any typical gift-- what do you want?” Harry felt a lump grow in his throat. He really just wanted Draco to be his friend, but all the signs pointed to point blank exchange. Draco was far from being above that, if anything, he was more apt to make exchanges than any other kid he’d ever met!

 

The blond boy slowly smoothed out the wrinkles in his own robes then looked up at Harry with the same kind of look that he was wearing the day before-- something akin to softness, but unsure of what to do with the emotion. “I want to be your friend, Harry, our influences are so powerful, that one day, when we grow up, we can rule the place.”

 

Harry sharply inhaled. There were so many things about that statement he needed to unravel, but the last, and most tempting was  _ we can rule the place _ , that implied power. Power was something Harry had so desperately wanted, he needed  _ control,  _ even just over his own life. But...Draco...Draco came first. Perhaps they could be friends. Good ones.

 

Harry slid on the shirt with a nod, “That sounds like a plan I can agree to. We can be best friends.”   
  


“The very best,” Draco affirmed, moving over to show him the weird, intricate buttoning on the shirt. “There. Now. Pants. I presume those muggles at least had decency to show you how to do that?”

 

Harry rolled his eyes, “Of course they did. Everyone’s got to, if they want to enter school by five.” An edge of curiosity came over him, thinking of Snape’s explanation on the lack of muggle items in the wizarding world when Draco said the word. “By the way….You wouldn’t happen to know anything about why there’s no muggle stuff in the wizarding world, would you? Because, personally, I…” he trailed off, suddenly feeling strange under Draco’s look.

 

Draco had a lot of looks. All of which were hard to decipher. 

 

“Muggles are inferior, in most ways, if not all,” Draco decided in his patented  _ my dad said this so I’m sure it’s true _ voice. (It was the first thing Harry picked up on about the boy, actually.) “Which is why muggleborns are so...terrible for the wizarding world.”

 

Harry had even more questions swirling around in his head because of that comment. Perhaps that was why Snape was so awkward about it- it was….racist. It was the exact thing he was facing back at the Dursley’s but the opposite and Harry suddenly felt off-kilter. 

 

“Why...Why?” He asked quietly as he tied his shoes (new too! Draco! What!!) 

 

“Why? Well, they- they- they- er,” Draco fumbled, obviously not used to that question. “They bring bad influences into the community!”

 

“Do they ruin the good beliefs of sovereign men?” Harry asked tiredly. Tired, that’s what the off-kilter feeling was. He was so, so tired. Of...people like that. Maybe Sirius wasn’t like that...He hoped not. Same with Remus.

 

“Yes! Exactly!” Draco exclaimed, seemingly happy that Harry understood what he meant.

 

“Bring in new ideas and fanciful thinking that any man with a semblance of self respect would throw out the door without a second thought because they simply cannot be as smart or a human as he is?” He pulled on the robe, his face red and angry, but that bone-weary tiredness made it impossible to put the intonation that he wanted to convey. 

 

“Why...I couldn’t have said it better myself….” Draco’s voice seemed a bit weak, as if he were unsure or sad or annoyed or-- or something! Something that Harry couldn’t understand! And, by god, that made him even more mad! He was fuming and his blood was boiling under his skin and--

 

Harry felt something drip from his chin. Putting a hand to it, he realized he was crying again. Again. How odd. Unable to focus on the tears, however, he faced Draco with a tight, exhausted look. “Draco, we’re best friends now, but you’re the most racist person I’ve heard aside from the Dursleys.”

 

Harry buttoned up the buttons slowly, but surely. He wanted to talk to Snape--no, he didn’t want to  _ talk _ to Snape, he wanted another hug. He wanted that feeling of safety in an unknown environment. He just…

 

Draco suddenly was in Harry’s face-- his hands actually on Harry’s face! “Harry, Harry, is that why you’re crying? Why are you crying?” 

 

“I’m crying because...because….I don’t know.” He felt the opposite of hungry. Queasy. Sick. In pain. “I don’t know anything anymore. I’d just like to-- I don’t know!  _ I don’t know! _ ” The world was crumbling around him...no, he was crumbling and the world was doing just fine. He was wrapped in the neverending problem and enigma that is  _ him _ and the only person who has shown him such unrelenting support was locked in Azkaban! He’d never even really met the bloke! And he-- Harry had trouble breathing. He wished Professor Snape was here. He just--

 

Draco’s features were all pulled into acute distress. “Erm, what if I were to tell you that despite that, muggleborns are now staples in wizarding society? And-- and-- and your mum was a muggleborn and she’s super famous! And...dead...but! She was brilliant! Even my father said so!”

 

Harry sniffled, still miffed and panicked, but eager to hear about his mother. Snape knew her, but at least Draco knew  _ of _ her. And, well, he didn’t know about muggleborns...or what they were, exactly, but by the name he guessed it was wizards that were born from muggle families which could be odd, but it could be attributed to DNA and the application of the punnett square...

 

Evidently, Draco could tell that Harry was feeling better the more good things he said about muggleborns. “Right! And they won the war against the Dark Lord, so they’d have to be pretty mighty, right? And, and I mean, you helped too! You’re the vanquisher of the Dark Lord and you’re a half blood!”

 

None of what Draco just said made any sense. So, Harry said the only thing he could think of. “Is there a book on that?”

 

“Dozens,” Draco promised, ready to agree to anything in an attempt to make Harry feel better. The sentiment alone was enough to make Harry momentarily forgive Draco for his incredibly racist and ignorant statements. No one type of person aside murderers and people who committed terrible crimes could possibly be bad enough to warrant that kind of behavior...still, Harry had a very limited amount of people that could stand to be around him, and the number shrunk by three when Snape found him the day previous. 

 

The day previous. 

 

Harry suddenly felt tired again.

 

“Did I do my...robe right?” He asked, stepping back from Draco, who gave a curt nod.

 

“You look perfectly normal now, let’s go back to mother and Uncle Sev, I’m sure they’re wondering where we’ve gone.” 

 

“Draco?”

 

“Yeah, Harry?”

 

“Can you...can you be like this for right now? And-- and claim you’re tired, or something?”

 

It took a moment for Draco to respond. “I’ll do that if you promise me that you’ll talk to me before Hogwarts?”

 

“...I promise, okay? I promise.”

 

Harry let Draco drag him out the door.

 

\--

 

“Why, you do look just like him, don’t you?” Draco’s mum, Mrs. Malfoy, cooed as Harry sat down in the spot next to Snape. “If I didn’t know what your mum looked like, I’d have guessed you’d been related.”

 

“‘Cause I got brown skin?” Harry asked, wondering if he was going to get another round of another type of racism. He wasn’t sure if he could take that...He’d need to make sure that doesn’t happen. 

 

“In part. You have a beautiful mix of your mother and father, Harry,” she remedied smoothly. “Your mother’s eyes, your father’s hair, and of course, your mother’s habits of picking up bratty boys.”

 

Harry sent her a questioning glance, “What do you mean, ma’am?” 

 

Mrs. Malfoy gave a carefully warm bout of laughter that implied she had already imagined how this conversation would pan out-- and oh, he was not going to let her do that. He was going to win this. “Well, as you know, Professor Snape and your mother were friends as children. Severus was never an outgoing boy and was far from modest when it came to his specialties, and your mother decided to force some humility out of him by giving him stern talks about delicate subjects. If what I overheard from the men’s room was any clue, you did the same to my dear Draco.”

 

Draco’s face went red, Harry found himself smirking. And just a little bit panicking? Okay, a lot panicking-- Draco’s opinion on that particular thing was impossible to discern and he really had no time to wonder if he should panic more or not.

 

Still, he had a bit of a mission and a pesky little bit of paranoia wasn’t going to stop him.

 

“Well, ma’am,” Harry decided to take a calculated risk, “I do have a habit of shutting down hateful comments towards any type of people, ignorance is not bliss and nor should anyone believe it to be so. I have yet to meet a well educated, intelligent racist. Draco’s bright, probably the smartest kid I’ve ever met, but he’s lacked education on that particular subject.”

 

Draco shot him a warning look, but it was not one of offense…... rather of curiosity and genuine worry. Harry sent him a short smile before turning back to Mrs. Malfoy, who was exchanging a look of peaked interest with Snape. Not anger, which was good, anger could be terribly dangerous.

 

Soon enough, she turned back to him with a warm smile on her face, “We could all learn to take a leaf out of that particular book, I’m sure. May I ask as to what you were talking about?”

 

No, bad idea. He didn’t even really shut Draco down at all, he just got mad and started crying and Draco corrected himself. If he let that slip then his previous comments could be seen as falsehoods and well...He looked at Draco, who nodded slightly. A signal to do what he needed.

 

“Well, I had a question about muggles and muggleborns-- I’d never heard of the term before, you see, and he was saying the same things about them that my relatives would say about me, and...you’ve probably heard it’s not been...a pleasant couple of days,” his voice went quiet for a moment, pressing the thoughts of his relatives to the back of his mind before he picked up the volume to normal, “and I’d have my due of racism for a century and I refuse to repeat it, even if it’s not about me.”

 

Mrs. Malfoy gave a tight smile to him with a nod, before turning to Draco and whispering something in his ear that Harry couldn’t hear. Draco looked at Harry and rolled his eyes. He muttered ‘I understand.’ Harry had no idea what he understood. Harry wasn’t sure he understood. 

 

The whole day was just confusing.

 

Professor Snape turned to him to speak for the first time since they’d arrived, “Are you hungry?”

 

His stomach flipped at the notion, Harry shook his head, “I feel like rubbish, sir, I don’t know if I could eat a cracker.” Snape nodded, then looked forward with a purposely calm face...plausibly for his benefit, but he couldn’t fathom as to  _ why. _ Both Malfoys were also looking at him, so he put on his smoothest looking cool expression to say, “Thank you so much for the robes, by the way, they’re amazing, truly. I’m not sure when I can repay you, but I--”

 

“Think nothing of it,” Mrs. Malfoy said sternly. “You’re Draco’s friend and Severus’ ward, you’re practically family already.”

 

Harry didn’t feel it was pertinent to mention the fact that Snape was looking to drop himself off elsewhere…He wondered if he could suggest Remus Lupin without looking suspicious…... Probably not. Not now, at least.

 

“...Thank you,” Harry repeated, a blush coming through without permission. Practically family already. Harry’s in love with the idea. He just hopes that what he said wouldn’t...He cut himself off, no, he’d think about that in a very non-public setting. Preferably locked in the guest bedroom at Snape’s. 

 

\--

 

Dinner went on smoothly after that, Mrs. Malfoy and Draco making most of the conversation, mostly of things about the wizarding world that would be useful for him to know. Hogwarts and the houses (they were all sure that Draco would be a Slytherin, like his father, mother, and Snape as well, they said nothing about Harry, but he felt by the description, he’d be a good fit), the pets allowed (he was getting an owl, Snape like it or not, Sirius was his first priority), places to go and places not to go in Diagon Alley, and questions about the muggle world (something that Professor Snape seemed to be intrigued by as well, if only by the Malfoy’s curiosity of it.)

 

Harry found it all very suspicious, but overall pleasant. 

 

Eventually, Draco pulled him aside while the adults said their goodbyes. 

 

“Harry, I’ve been thinking about what you said-- or more about what you made me say, and I have to say, I’ve never thought of it like that. I won’t say I’m 100% on board about it all, but I can say I’ll think about it.”

 

“About muggles? And how it’s just a different society than you’re used to so people are inherently fearful of it?” Harry asked, a tad daringly despite his fears. “Draco, do you know what electricity is?”

 

“No.”

 

“It’s kinda like magic, but it exerts no effort on the person using it.”

 

“...Still not 100%,” Draco repeated, so Harry just nodded and said one final thing.

 

“...That’s all I can ask. I can’t make you change your whole systems of belief in one day.”

 

“How do you do that?”

 

“Do what?”

 

“Go from being so ...normal to so ….smart and wise and--” Draco cut himself off, flushing red. Harry…. didn’t know what that meant. “You like, switch into an adult sometimes but then at others you’re just a crying kid!”

 

“I-- I don’t know? It’s just, who I am?” Harry muttered nervously, his hand going to his neck…... Then Harry thought of Sirius letter. …. _ You need to be your own person. This may not make sense, but take pride in your individuality. Take pride in who you are.  _ A jolt of self-confidence, the first one he’d had in the past twenty-four hours, led him to saying, “It’s a part in the totality of me and I’m not going to change it, so please don’t ask me to.”

 

Draco got another interesting look that Harry couldn’t decipher. “I won’t. I’ll see you, Harry, alright? Owl me or Floo, would you?”

 

Harry assumed that meant write or call him, “Will do, later, Draco.”

 

Draco tackled him in an unexpected hug before taking off after his mother.

 

Harry, after his heart stopped pounding by the scare, found himself inexplicably warmed by the short, little action. He should read as to why.

 

\--

 

“You continue to surprise me and allude my expectations,” Snape said quietly as they walked out of the diner. “What was that all about, the ...racism comments?”

 

“I’m tired,” Harry said, wanting to avoid yet another conversation on the matter. “When you tell me about my mum, I’ll tell you about my thought process, yeah?”

 

For a moment, the only thing Harry could hear was the snapping of Snape’s robes in the wind. “Why, ...that does seem like a decent exchange. For now, perhaps we should just get the necessities and we can go to the house, if you are truly tired.”

 

Snape was assuming that his tiredness was feigned, and thus he could get answers quicker if Harry showed his hand to be false. Smart play, Harry thought, but he actually was superbly tired. Too tired to ...be on anything other than autopilot. “I truly am, what do we need to get?”

 

“...I must stop by the apothecary, and I suppose we can get you your potions supplies while there...And perhaps we can stop by to get you a familiar for Hogwarts, as young mister Malfoy seemed ready for daily mailing. An owl, I presume?”

 

“Presumed correctly, sir,” Harry huffed a laugh. “Do you so presume anything else?”

 

“Cheek, Harry, cheek.”

 

“Why I did nothing of the sort.” Harry rather liked teasing Snape.

 

“You’re insufferable.”

 

“I’ve been told.” A grand, great, fantastically large amount of times. 

 

Snape got another very frustrated look on his face as he lead them to the apothecary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao you thought draco'd be swept under the rug just like that??
> 
> nah dude
> 
> next time,,,,i'm thinking remus lupin, y'all?


	4. Calling In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp, here we are folks, rEMUS LU P IN

Harry was practically sleeping upright by the time Snape was done at the apothecary, with three boxes of supplies (one of which he was pretty sure was his first year potions supplies), luckily the professor noticed his state and asked if he’d prefer to simply retrieve an owl the next day-- he was quick to say yes and quicker to latch onto Snape’s arm for Apparition. 

 

He’d only been awake for some odd twelve hours-- getting up at six --but by the time that he helped Snape sort out what looked to be different kinds of slugs at the house, he was ready to crash and burn and possibly never wake up. Usually lack of sleep wasn’t terrible, but Harry had a hunch it had to do with the absurd amount of emotions he’d been grappling with.

 

Little did he know at the time, but he had drifted off on the couch thinking of his lack of sleep. Ironic, really.

 

\--

 

Someone was shaking him awake-- it was probably Uncle Vernon, maybe he forgot to trim the hedges or something--

 

The shaking became more intense, so as Harry opened his eyes he put his hands up to cover his face, just in case. Only a few weeks ago, Dudley was told to wake him up and resorted to punching him. Not fun.

 

Black hair was covering his view of the man’s face, but Harry knew it well enough to snap back into reality. “Oh, professor. What’s going on?”

 

Snape finally looked over at him as Harry lowered his arms, the man also took his hand off Harry’s shoulder. “It’s Monday morning and I’m running late.”

 

“Running late?” Harry asked, sitting up to rub his eyes. “Oh, a summer job? Okay, I’ll get to cleaning here in a moment. Did you have breakfast?”

 

Once Harry had reached over to put on his glasses, he finally became aware of Snape’s strange glare towards the fireplace. It was strange because one, what did the fireplace do? And two, he was only sneaking glances over to it now that--

 

“What did you just say? I don’t believe I heard you correctly,” Snape said in that careful tone that implied that Harry did something not normal again. He, actually, completely blamed the Dursleys on that one. 

 

“A summer job? Me cleaning? Your state of having or not having breakfast?”

 

“No, to all of those.” Snape shook his head, motioning to the staircase. “If you would go upstairs for a short while, I must make a call, then I’ll prepare breakfast. It’s only five, but my...caller is an early riser.”

 

Harry nodded, standing up from the comfy couch. His neck sort of hurt, but he wasn’t going to say anything about it. “Quick question: did you write the notes in the textbooks up there? I’m reading the potions one, currently...are they like, updates?”

 

Snape smirked, “They are indeed written by me, and they are updates. It would do you well to take notes on both and try to figure out why the changes are being made.”

 

“I’ve got some notes going, but I’ll try and figure it out while you’re attending your call,” He was halfway up the stairs before calling down, “Come get me when you’re done, please!”

 

\--

 

Potions were weird, but super fun, Harry decided as he figured out why the cure for boils was changed-- the density of one of the ingredients got all funky if not crushed in the proper way and the heat also made another ingredient a little less predictable so it was brought down.

 

It made a lot of sense that Snape was the potions professor, come to think of it. Potions was all about practicality and precise movements-- two things Severus Snape was far from lacking. The man was very careful about everything he said-- when he caught himself, that was. Harry still couldn’t figure out as to  _ why  _ he was so back and forth about Harry. At first, Snape seemed to dislike him very strongly, then he was not exactly nice, but kind enough, then he was a tad nasty, then he became caring  _ and  _ nice, and then a prick, and then friendly and then-- ugh! 

 

Why couldn’t Snape be more potions?! Potions you could not only  _ read,  _ but you could  _ understand.  _ He can read Snape pretty well-- adults in general, come to think of it-- but he can’t figure out the motives behind the man. 

 

Finishing his notes up to chapter ten, he decided that he needed a break from potions, however brilliant they were. ..Sirius said that transfiguration was his dad’s best subject, so he might as well look at that one. Perhaps they’d have that in common. 

 

Still, his mind wandered. He wondered who Snape was talking to-- he wondered how long he’d be in the professor’s care, he wondered if he’d be a burden to the man, he wondered where he’d go if Snape couldn’t find him a place to stay, he wondered if he’d see Draco again, as much as the git was, well, a git. They were best friends, and he wondered if he’d be able to find Remus Lupin and oh theyweregoingshoppintodayandmaybehe’d--

 

“Harry, could you come down for a moment?” Snape’s voice rang through the hall, taught with stress and anger, but Harry could tell it wasn’t aimed at him

 

“Of course, sir! Just one moment!” Harry scrambled to organize his notes and haphazardly stick his pen behind his ear before rushing downstairs. Snape was in front of the fire place where the-- woah, where the flames glowed green and there was a face in the-- THERE WAS A FACE IN THE FLAMES AND--

 

“Calm down,” Snape ordered, though gently. “It’s completely safe. It’s comparative to a muggle telephone.” 

 

“Green fire?” Harry squeaked out as he inched his way over to the flames where he could see the fire man’s face fully. “That’s truly peculiar.”

 

“Many things are to those raised as muggles,” Snape said tiredly, before looking at the man in the flames. “Does this satisfy your  _ curiosity _ , Lupin?” How Snape managed to say the word  _ curiosity _ with that much disdain, he’d never know. Hold on a moment. Lupin?

 

“Hello, Harry,” The man in the flames said, ignoring Snape. The man had shaggy hair-- Harry couldn’t tell the color because, well, green flames-- and scars all over his face, but kind eyes and a smile to match it. He seemed familiar, somehow. 

 

That set him a tad on edge...But then he remembered: Lupin. 

 

“Is your name Remus Lupin?” Harry asked softly, unable to believe it. His sheer luck on the whole matter was improbable and would probably come with a price. He got a sudden barrage of images from his daydreams, how different and how similar he’d always imagined the man. 

 

Lupin’s eyes widened in shock, “Professor Snape has told you of me?”

 

“No,” Snape cut in, his voice sharp and calculating. “How do you know him,  _ Harry?” _ His name was said with a similar displeasure as  _ father  _ and  _ godfather.  _ It made him feel sick to his stomach.

 

“Aunt Petunia,” Harry lied smoothly. “She refused to say much, but I wheeled a few names out of her. You were one of them…. the uh….” he wracked his brain for non-incriminating information that Sirius had sent him. His brain suddenly jolted to the conversation from the day before-- this was the same voice that he’d overheard the professor talking with. He put a hand to his neck, trying to emulate his thinking pose. “... You had something to do with my parents’ will. That’s all I can remember.” And you’re a  _ werewolf.  _ Which was so hecking  _ cool.  _ Though, he wasn’t sure that anyone else shared that particular sentiment.

 

“Petunia  _ truly _ told you that?” Snape questioned cautiously, though it was far less venomous than before. 

 

“Well, I might have read something I wasn’t supposed to,” Cover up with something that will give you a lesser scolding-- it will give you empathy. He blushed a bit, a tad mad at his thinking for being so…. manipulative. But, he supposed, if it were to help Sirius, he didn’t mind it too terribly much.

 

“Well, however you came across the information, you are correct,” Remus glanced at Snape for a moment, before steeling his features. “I was listed as second in line as your godfather.”

 

Harry pointedly _ didn’t _ let his jaw drop, but his eye went wide behind his glasses.  _ WHAT?  _ Sirius hadn’t said anything about  _ that! _ He-- he could have gotten away from his Aunt and Uncle and his horrible cousin but---

 

Angrily, he wiped at his eyes, refusing to cry. “Were you? And where have you been? It’s been ten years!” He didn’t want to yell but-- but this---

 

“Harry,” a hand rested on his shoulder, “breathe. I’ll end the call and--”

 

“No! I mean, no, sir! I need to talk to him,” Harry took a deep breath before looking at Remus, who had a devastated look on his face. “Why weren’t you there? When I was-- when my only home was a cupboard under the stairs? When I was--” he cut himself off. “I’m sorry…”

 

“No, no don’t be sorry, you’re right, it’s my fault,” Remus sighed. “I was told you were in good care and later--- and later that you simply didn’t want to see me. Not that it’s any excuse for my ignorance of your situation.”

 

“Who told you?” Harry demanded, though he kept his voice level, just like Snape did when he was mad, but refused to explode. The man looked hesitant to speak, again glancing to Snape, who Harry didn’t bother to look at. “I know it wasn’t him. Who. Told. You?”

 

“A very important man,” Remus looked mad at himself, just for saying that. “A-- a man who must have been lied to, I suspect.”

 

“You suspect,” Harry whispered, suddenly all too aware of the gravity of the situation. This was the man Sirius trusted with his whole heart...though, he had to wonder who this very important man was, and if he truly were the one Harry suspected he was. “I suppose that’s a good enough answer for now…”

 

“Severus,” Remus addressed the professor, “May we have a moment?”

 

“Are you dismissing me in my own home?” Snape sneered, his distaste for the werewolf shining through like the sun. 

 

Harry cleared his mind of the thought, just because  _ he _ was mad, didn’t mean that Snape was all clear for being even more unpleasant than usual. 

 

Though, he was rather shocked by Snape’s next words, “Harry has already shown blatant distaste for you, and nearly brought him into yet another panic attack regarding his horrible muggle relatives, you blasted wolf!”

 

Harry had to unravel that statement carefully. Snape was worried about him. While not out of character, it was...nice. Strange still, but nice. His hand was still on Harry’s shoulder, warm and grounding him to reality. And he mentioned the Dursleys to Remus, and, obviously, not for the first time.  _ And _ , the wolf comment. Did Snape know?

 

“It’s okay, professor,” Harry breathed in deeply, then exhaled, trying to resonate calm and logic, “I was just...agitated. Historically, reports on my person...are far from accurate. Remus wasn’t at fault. I’d-- I’d like to talk to him, if you wouldn’t mind? Uh, privately?”

 

Snape regarded him for a long moment, those beady black eyes boring into his head, his head that was going on a repeat of  _ he’s fine-- I’m not mad-- he’s fine-- I’m not mad.  _ And seeing as Snape had the quality of knowing exactly where one’s head was placed, the mantra seemed useful. 

 

With a weary look, Snape nodded, “I’ll be back in ten minutes with lunch. I suspect that’s plenty of time?”

 

“Yes, Severus,” Remus nodded calmly, jumping on board with Harry, though he did cast a questioning glance. “It’s only the floo.”

 

“I  _ know _ , Lupin.” With a twirl of his robes, Snape was off….leaving Harry with Remus.

 

He sat down slowly in front of the fire. “I’m sorry I got so mad-- but you must understand, I’ve been on a…. _ mounta russa  _ if you would….” Harry caught the look on Remus’ face. A questioning eyebrow, but with a soft smile to match it. That was a look he’d never gotten before. “Uh, rollercoaster. Spanish, I think, my English teacher was bilingual, so he taught us a bit of Spanish too. And like, three words of French so it could be--” He cut himself off. “Ten minutes, right. Better use this time wisely.”

 

He was astutely aware that Snape could probably hear him, so he avoided the letter for the given moment. “Remus...may I call you that? It’s what I’ve always called you in my head, sorry.”

 

“You’re fine, Harry, I’d be disappointed if you called me Mr. Lupin. And I’m very sorry for upsetting you-- I truly had no idea until Severus flooed me yesterday.”

 

“I understand,” and he did, but that didn’t mean he was happy about it. “I’m in a culture shock, anyhow, a lot of things set me off. Anyway, I’d rather be mad then be numb to it, you know?”

 

A sorrowful look covered Remus’ features, “I know. I know well.” He cleared his throat. “I heard you met Draco Malfoy yesterday...how was that?”

 

“Technically, I met him Saturday,” Harry corrected, “When Professor Snape noticed the bruises on my arms after I’d left the warded area without notification, he brought me to...the ministry? I think. Anyhow, Draco’s dad works there. We talked. He’s a good friend, I think, and his willingness to...expand his views is a brilliant trait. At lunch he even brought me a gift. Do you know him?”

 

“I know his father,” Remus muttered wearily, “a rather...difficult man. Blood-purist, you see--”

 

“I’m aware. His son is being taught to hold similar views, I just hope I can dis-- dis-- err, move him away from that spot. Telling him about the muggle cinema truly did wonders to his world outlook.”

 

“Movies, who’d have suspected that would be the key to a Malfoy’s heart?” Remus gave a soft chuckle, then he sighed again. “I suppose you’re wondering why I asked to talk to you?”

 

“You’d be supposing correctly,” Harry replied in an echo of what he’d said the day before to Snape. “I have an idea, or two, _ but _ I’d like to refrain from  _ supposing _ .”

 

“Cheeky, I did hear that,” the man’s face grew back into a wide smile for a moment, then dropped again. It was like he didn’t know how to react. Interesting. “I know that you may not like me from my inaction, but I truly do want to get to know you-- to make sure you’re settling well and-- well, quite frankly, Severus is looking for a home for you, and he doesn’t want to have to resort to me but--.”

 

“Resort?”

 

“...We have something of a history, I suppose, and an illness that catches me off guard from time to time.” Werewolf, right, can’t forget about that. 

 

“Perhaps we should meet in person, then,” Harry plotted, just a tad, it would be a quick way of talking about Sirius where Snape couldn’t hear. “Not today, I’m sure you have a schedule to keep to, and I’d hate to keep you from that...but if you truly do want to get to know me, with Professor Snape’s know how, of course...a meeting would be a good tell of character...”

 

“You sound just like your mother, making a comment like that,” Remus barked a short laugh, then nodded. “You’ve got a practical brain there, I see, and I’d like that, the meeting, that is. Perhaps you’d like to meet for ice cream sometime this week?”

 

Harry felt a flutter of hope he hadn’t felt for the grand majority of the conversation, making him regret his snooty and downright snotty tone with the man. “I-- I would like that. I’m sorry if I was being rude, I truly am. I’m just...weary, you see? I know Professor Snape, though I haven’t known him long, I’d like to think he’s got a good heart under that scowl.” Something crashed in the kitchen. Harry smirked. “Not that I’d ever say such a thing to his face, of course. But, still, I don’t know you aside from one major fact that got me hurt in ways I can’t begin to explain. I’m a freak, you know?”

 

“You’re not a freak,” Remus admonished adamantly. “You are a kid who was forced under circumstances that are far less than ideal and lived to tell the tale. You-- oh, welcome back, Severus.”

 

Snape ignored Remus, squatting down in an unellegant position to talk to Harry quietly, “Are you alright?”

 

“I’m not, not alright,” Harry whispered back, “However, this is quite rude, ignoring Remus.”

 

Snape scowled as Harry gave an aborted laugh. “Well, your ten minutes are over. Have you come to any agreement?”

 

Remus looked at Harry, allowing him to answer. That was a point to Remus, Harry’s heart beat faster as he was trusted to reply to his own free will. “I believe we agreed to a trial run-- ice cream some time this week, unless you’d like me out sooner?”

 

“You’re always welcome here,” Snape said, though it was with that bitter resignation. “Lupin and I shall arrange that later, if that’s what you truly want.”

 

“It is,” Harry didn’t say as to why it was so important, or as to why he was so conflicted, but he did smile briefly at both of them. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m not feeling very well, but it was a pleasure to meet you. I’ll talk to you later this week, hopefully?”

 

“Surely,” Remus promised. “I’ll answer any questions, okay? Don’t hesitate to ask.”

 

“I won’t, hesitate, that is,” Harry lied as he stood up. He’d hesitate, but he’d ask eventually. “Goodbye.”

 

“Goodbye.” Something of a disappointed tone twinged the end of that word, but Harry truly felt abysmal. Too many emotions, yet again-- so he continued his way upstairs with a wave to Snape, who quirked an eyebrow, but let him go.

 

Eventually, he made his way to the guest bed and crawled under the covers, hoping that his stomach would settle so he could do something rather than just...sulk, he supposed. There was no good reason to sulk, no good reason to whine, and no good reason to complain, while Harry knew that the Dursleys were wrong about much, he suspected they weren’t about that. And he’d complained enough today anyhow, he reasoned.

 

\--

 

“Harry?” Snape’s calm, but stern tone woke Harry from his state of near sleep. “I don’t know what Lupin said, but you must eat.” The man was still outside the door, seemingly waiting to be called in. Harry smile at the thought-- Snape was letting him have privacy, even when it was Snape’s house.

 

“You can come in if you’d like,” Harry called, though, not very loud as his stomach took an awful jolt. As the man did, Harry noted that he was carrying a plate full of….bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches. “It’s not Remus, really, I just…... don’t feel well.”

 

“Is that so?” Snape sat down the plate on the desk where Harry had his notebooks piled high before moving over to Harry’s spot on the bed. “You weren’t doing well yesterday, either, were you?”

 

He had felt awfully tired and somewhat sick to his stomach, true, but Harry didn’t understand what Snape was getting at. After all, he’d been really quite emotional and that usually made him feel ill. “I wasn’t feeling great yesterday, no.”

 

Snape brought out his wand and did some odd movement over Harry, one that Harry simply was too tired to question. By that point, not only his stomach hurt, but his head was starting to as well, along with aches all along his toes up to his thighs.

 

“Ah, I feared as much,” Snape pursed his lips, doing another spell, silent, this time, before pulling the chair over from the desk. “Harry, before I told you magic was real, did you ever do any?”

 

Harry nodded slowly, unsure if that was good or bad. It was bad for the Dursleys, sure, but Snape was a different, nicer ballpark, but one that still had the occasional rampaging dog. Oh! He should think of a question about his mother soon! 

 

“--You’re getting a fever-- do you have any other symptoms?”

 

Harry’s lips twitched downwards. Did he have symptoms or were they just his body being dumb because his brain hates it? Or--

 

“Sometime today.”

 

To hell with it. “My stomach, sir, my head and body aches.” The man’s eyes gave a vaguely worried look over of his person, before he nodded gravely.

 

“I’ll get you some potions to help with that, here in a moment, but, I’m going to repeat my first question-- when was the last time you did accidental magic?”

 

Harry thought back to his six year old self, tired and sore after being hit and punched and-- well, a bit thrashed, overall-- and how he had accidentally summoned food from the kitchen after everyone had gone to bed. “Uh, five years ago?”

 

Snape’s eyebrows shot up, then he muttered, “Much worse than I thought…”

 

Feeling panic rising in his chest, Harry choked out, “Did I do something wrong? I swear I didn’t mean to! I didn’t--” the pain and the panic made tears come to his eyes for the second time in two hours, but he didn’t pay them any mind. “I’m sorry!”

 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, you idiot child,” Snape growled, but he was still looking somewhat worried. “You had nothing to do with it, those  _ muggles _ did. You’re halfway to an ob--” he cut himself off, suddenly hit by some sort of emphanny. “Oh,  _ oh _ , Harry, breathe.”

 

Harry took in gasping breaths, but through his tears and laying on his back it was hard. Snape took the initiative and pulled him up into a sitting position before sliding to sit beside Harry-- allowing Harry to cry freely on his chest. Harry hated how easy it was to cry. Harry hated that he allowed himself to cry. But he was so, so thankful that Snape just let him cry out his pain in warm arms. 

 

“You’re going to be okay, Harry, you’ll be fine,” those words didn’t sound like mere platitudes either, they sounded real. Not that Snape would use platitudes to begin with. “It’s just a case of magical buildup, just let yourself be. Let your magic work it’s way out of your system. Just breathe.”

 

It felt like hours by the time Harry had finally stopped crying, and while his stomach had stopped hurting so bad, his headache was increased by tenfold, something which the professor was quick to catch. Slowly, the professor laid Harry back on the bed, running a hand through his hair, muttering something Harry couldn’t catch. 

 

He just felt so tired. Even more tired than before. He was…... drained. Completely and totally drained. Snape’s hands and general presence though, gave Harry enough grounding to blearily say, “I’m sorry.”

 

Snape shook his head, his eyes sad, but his features schooled. “Don’t ever be sorry about your magic. Let me get you a potion for your headache…... I’m sorry it slipped my mind yesterday.”

 

“‘S okay, professor, you’ve got a lot on your mind.”

 

“It’s not, Harry, it’s really not.” And he was gone, and Harry went back to drifting before quickly falling asleep. 

 

\--

 

He dreamed of Snape’s house being wrapped in a warm blanket of care and kindness. He dreamed of Remus Lupin with a hand on his shoulder, handing him an ice cream cone. He dreamed--

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahhahaaaaaaaaaHHHHHHHHHHHH
> 
> yeah there's a plot to this fic aside from harry finding sirius!! and no,,,i didnt,,,,just,,,,make it up
> 
> ANYWAY  
> we'll get there next time! next time: snape accidently, somehow, becomes MORE of a dad! and remus will appear as a cOOL AS HECK DUDE BC HE'LL BE ABLE TO REDEEM HIMSELF!! and harry will probably cry more because honestly, a huge as i make his vocab, he's 10
> 
> ,,,,and sorry if harry is a bit,,,,older sounding?? you notice how the longer he spends with our boy sevvy here, the more ridiculous language he picks up?? yeah me too. so will another character. later. ANWAY UNTIL NEXT TIME


	5. Magical Mysteries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hah,,,,,hahhhh

 

Harry woke up slowly, his vision going in and out, until he finally, blearily without his glasses, got a look at his surroundings. The guest bed, the desk and-- Snape, Snape was sitting in a chair, absently flicking through a book while glancing at some papers. “Pr’ss’r?” Harry slurred, still very tired, but much better than he had been.

 

Snape looked up with one of those hard to read expressions, but it eventually morphed into a look of relief. “I think that did it, if only somewhat.”

 

“That did what?” Harry asked, sitting up while rubbing his eyes. “Crying like a baby?”

 

There was a small snort at that, “Partially. Your magical….how do I explain this simply….you had a buildup of magic and your body hated it, so it needed to expel some of it. Magic is directly tied with emotions, you must understand, so your sadness and distress made it easy for magic to….go.”

 

“Electrical overload but with magic?” He asked, putting on his glasses. “I needed to make ground so the signal could relocate?”

 

“...Probably, I’m not overly aware of muggle electricity.” Snape admitted, standing up. “However, you need to eat. While you may feel...ill or very tired or with headache, it is necessary. I’ll bring up the leftovers from earlier.”

 

“Wait, Professor?” Harry called out, not wanting Snape to leave him alone. “I think I’m well enough to go downstairs….and maybe you could explain to me what my magic did?”

 

Tucking a lock of hair behind his ear, Snape assessed Harry with careful eyes. “Do you feel, at all, lightheaded?”

 

Harry had to admit, “Yes, just a bit. I’m sure it’ll be fine though I just--”

 

“Trust me when I say that with the amount of magic you did but three hours ago, a little lightheadedness means jelly-legs.” It was weird to hear the phrase  _ jelly-legs _ come out of Snape’s mouth, Harry thought with a small smile. “And I simply won’t have you falling down the stairs after--- no, I won’t have it.”

 

Snape was definitely not telling him something, Harry thought absently, but dismissed the thought. It probably wasn’t a huge deal-- the man alway told Harry what was necessary. Plus, he was probably right about the stairs thing.

 

“Err, alright then,” Harry sat back against the headboard of the bed. “Can I at least sit at the desk?”

 

“Just eat in bed,” Snape sighed, picking up the papers he was looking at earlier. “While I get the food, you can look over your potions notes again. I added a few comments that I feel could be important, and, I must admit, you did quite well on grasping the subject. Perhaps you might even earn an O in my class.”

 

“An O?”

 

“An….A? In the muggle world?”

 

Harry nodded, accepting the notes to look over the comments….huh. Cool. Grinding clockwise versus anticlockwise had a major effect on beetle, but not on any other items aside from a rare root called  _ aspethosine  _ which Snape had said they learned about in seventh year….

 

By the time that Harry had finished looking over his notes, Snape was back with food and water. It was weird, still, that Snape used magic to just have the items float over to him. For the most part, the man had always done things in a very muggle fashion, including cooking and cleaning and….most everything, come to think of it, aside from the random apparation. Perhaps he was just easing Harry into it, perhaps there was another reason.

 

“Er, thank you for the extra notes, sir,” Harry said as he sat down the notebook. “Potions are really cool, I understand why you’re a potions professor now. It must be lots of fun.”

 

“Fun?” Snape repeated as the breakfast dish floated down onto Harry’s lap. “Fun is not the word I’d use to describe teaching children how to follow basic instructions. However, potions by itself? I’ll admit, I am rather fond of the art.”

 

Harry gave him a half smile, still feeling a tad off, but as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders with the magic all gone. “Now, could you explain to me what my magic did, now that it’s….ten in the morning and I have food?”

 

He picked up a little piece of bacon to eat it slowly, he wasn’t sick to his stomach anymore, but he wasn’t exactly hungry either. He knew, however, eating is what Snape wanted and if he got what he wanted, then Harry got what  _ he  _ wanted. 

 

The man, having evidently changed into normal clothes, aside from the full robes, looked down and pointedly buttoned the cuff of his sleeve. “The buildup, when your magic--your magic is highly reactive to your emotions, we’ve already been over this. But your magic wasn’t...controlled so much by your distress as much as it was by your dreams.”

 

“My dreams?” 

 

“Did I not just say that? Yes, your dreams. I’m not sure what you dreamed about aside from the house,” Snape didn’t look uncomfortable as much a he looked perplexed. He still also hadn’t looked up from his cuffed sleeve. “Do you remember?”

 

“A blanket-- around your house,” Harry admitted. “Warm and comfortable. Is that bad?”

 

The man’s lips twitched downwards before going back to normal as he made eye contact with Harry. “No, not bad. It explains a lot, come to think of it. And why your magic-- ah. I see.”

 

“I don’t,” Harry said, getting a bit miffed. “Tell me what’s going on, please!”

 

“Your magic decided to call this place home, and made extra wards around it that only accidental magic can create. I have a feeling that your magic only expresses itself subtly after your negative reactions to it in the past. Your cousin’s birthday, what were you feeling?”

 

“Excited. I hadn’t been to London proper in quite some time, er, ever, come to think of it.”

 

“The reason that Professor Dumbledore and I were never able to receive contact from your relatives was probably magic stemmed from that feeling. With the buildup of magic as such, it’s no wonder we had-- nevermind that, actually. Are you satisfied with that explanation?”

 

“Yes, sir,” Harry nodded. “Is-- am I still overly---er--- magic-ed?”

 

“A tad, but you shouldn’t be feeling ill because of it. Your fever has worn off, so the worst has past. This afternoon we are getting you your supplies for school, no exceptions. You must practice some magic under supervision before attending Hogwarts, there’s no saying what you could do when overwhelmed with students.”

 

“And the…... accidental magic, that is normal, right?” He’d hate to be abnormal again. 

 

“Yes,” Snape scrubbed his hand over his face. “Harry, if I didn’t know your Aunt Petunia, I wouldn’t understand your obsession with being normal. You are not normal. It’s a fact of the matter. I am not normal. Nor were your parents. Nor Draco or any other student. Being out of the ordinary is not a bad thing.”

 

“But being normal is better,” Harry insisted. It had to be! If not then there was no reason behind-- behind the meanness-- the bruises-- the pain-- none of it would matter and where would he be? What would be the point? Sure, Sirius said that individuality was fine and dandy and all that but-- “Normal is better.”

 

The professor looked at him with a look that Harry couldn’t place, and that  _ scared  _ him. “What  _ is _ normal, Harry?”

 

Harry finished eating his bacon and then set the plate on the corner of the desk as he thought. “Normal is like--” his aunt and uncle, he wanted to say, but he already knew they weren’t. They weren’t normal because they hurt him. Because they were mean and hated him. And he loved them despite it and he--- “I-I don’t know. Can we not- not do this? Please?” 

 

Snape gave a small his of breath that could have been a sigh, but Harry was a bit to stuck in his own head to process it. “We’ll be revisiting it. How about we...how does the phrase go….hash out what we spoke of yesterday. Your apparent thoughts on racism?”

 

That…Okay. He could do that. Harry drew his knees up to his chest, letting the grey blanket slide down to his feet. “I’m...brown. That much is obvious. And-- and I mean, I’d already dealt with my Aunt and Uncle the day before that and I was on edge and I--they hated me for it. They hated me for my magic. For my skin. For...everything. And hearing people hate someone else because they came from another culture? Sounds familiar, doesn’t it? I don’t even know where my dad is from-- or if he’s native to Britain or if he was Christian or-- whatever it was, that’s a part of me. Even if I don’t know it, it’s my blood, it’s my history. And when Draco was going off about muggleborns...I just...snapped. And I was ruthless and I just-- I hated it! I was so confused and so mad and I just-- I just shut down and said what needed to be said.” He took a moment to even out his breathing that had become harsh over his impromptu speech. “I can’t stand racism. I can’t. I can’t condone it. I--” 

 

He cut himself off, glancing over at Snape who had the most flat expression he’d seen from the man yet. “You agree with him, don’t you?”

 

“I…” Snape took a deep breath. “That is for me to know.”

 

“Blood is red,” Harry said quietly as a rush of anger came storming over him. “We all bleed the same.”

 

“I can’t tell you.” Monotone. Not even a hint of emotion. Harry hated it.

 

“I can’t trust you,” Harry’s heart broke right as he said that. He had trusted the man. The same guy who had saved him from his relatives. The same one who made sure he was okay when talking to Remus. The same one who insisted he ate three meals a day. The same one who let him cry without hesitation. The same one who talked him down from panic attacks when he got overwhelmed. “I want to.”

 

“You shouldn’t,” Snape admitted softly. “You really shouldn’t.”

 

“Go,” Harry snapped suddenly. “Go away!”

 

Snape rose slowly from his seat, watching Harry with sad eyes. Sad eyes that Harry couldn’t find it in himself to give a damn about. “I said  _ LEAVE!” _

 

Snape left, closing the door behind him with a  _ click.  _

 

Harry tightened his arms around his legs. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hAHH
> 
> HAHHHH
> 
> yeah i was lying a bit in the last notes, it's a short chapter tho, so.....hAH
> 
> yeah no we'll be getting remus next chapter i promise!! and well,,,,,it had to happen at some point. sorry boys! they'll make up eventually. perhaps when snape gets a little bit of sense in him,,,,,,wonder who will do that,,,,hhmmmmm,


	6. Ice Cream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look: i know this took fo r e v e er AND I"M SORRY OKAY??
> 
> but here have remus, and Harry griping, and remus being a nerd, and harry almost sounding like he was ten
> 
> oh god i haven't written in forever so i'm super rusty tell me if u guys are like: this isn't Harry! Harry acts like this in the other chapters! so I can strive to do better bc i know he's a sassy mo fo most of the time but sometimes a kid just has to be shookith

 

There were three days of tense interaction after that, neither truly talking to one another, but not really shying away. Harry did not forget Snape’s promises: an answered question about his mother, a trip to Diagon Alley, and a meeting with Remus. He knew that Snape had not forgotten either, but he refused to be the first to break. 

In that time, he continued making notes on that potions text. He kept trying to figure it out, because-- because he needed to. No other reason, he was sure, just...a need to figure the subject out. Along with that, he did his best to research wizarding law-- a book that was shoved at the very top of the shelf helped him figure that one out. It took him precariously balancing on the chair to get to it, but nevertheless, he got it.

 

Snape wasn’t going to toss him out, Harry knew that one, if nothing else...the bloke had some sort of moral obligation. Even if he was a prick. And he knew, realistically, honestly, Snape’s...blood purist/racist? Ideology really wasn’t abhorrent. Okay, it  _ was _ . But Draco had the same beliefs, and well....They were still friends, weren’t they? It just...what’s the metaphor….errr...Something about straw and camels?

 

Harry sighed and rested his head on the desk. He didn’t want to go back to the Dursleys’, he didn’t want to be here….He just wanted to go home. His little cupboard where he could avoid the rest of the world. 

 

Lifting up his head, he readied himself to continue working on his potions notes. Then there was a knock at his door. 

 

“Harry? It’s Remus, uh, Severus said you were...nevermind. Can we talk?”

 

Harry’s eyes went wide as a small bout of panic set in. “S-sure? The door is unlocked.”

 

Remus walked in. And well, Harry thought a tad hysterically, he was tall. Must be a few centimeters shy of two meters. Tall. And, a bit more hysterically, young. Remus Lupin was, at most, thirty-four. He had grey at his temples, but that looked rather more of stress than of age. 

 

(Harry had a feeling that, at this rate, he’d also gain stress gray by his thirties.)

 

“Harry?” The man asked, with a pinch of weariness added into his worried look. 

 

“Err, you can sit,” Harry scrambled to get up to free the chair and so he could sit on the bed  _ so _ he could have his back against the wall and feel a tad more reassured. “I….Hi?”

 

Remus sat down with a humble grace Harry could only wish to mimic. “Hi. I was told you got into a bit of a row with Severus. And something about wards?”

 

Harry’s hysteria at the whole seen was the only thing keeping him from getting his anger back up. “Yeah. Yes. Correct. Did he tell you what it was about?” 

 

Remus’ lips grew into something of a rueful smile, “It’s a wonder he told me about this at all. He really must care about you.”

 

HA!….Well, probably. If only for his mother’s sake. “It’s-- nevermind. It’s complicated and a bit of a sore point for my double standards. I’m only just getting over being angry.” Harry admitted, drawing his knees up to his chest awkwardly. “How are you, Remus?”

 

Without missing a beat, Remus accepted his answer and said, “Well, overall. I’ve been stress cleaning.”

 

“Why?” 

 

“Well, I’ve been worried about you, mostly.” Remus rubbed at his chin, as if searching for words. “And I’ve been thinking about my old friends, none of which are with us any longer.”

 

That rang a bell. More like a chorus of bells actually. “Sirius Black!” Harry blurted, stupidly.

 

Remus’ small smile quickly dropped as his eyebrows knitted together. “How do you know that name?”

 

How was he going to fib his way out of this one? Uhhh. “I was reading and the name came up. Draco said there were books with uh...With you. And my parents. And…” He shook his head and groaned. “No, I don’t want to lie to you about that. I’ll tell you about it later, I promise.”

 

“Harry,” Remus said sternly. “Where did you hear that name?”

 

“Can we not?” Harry doubled down, just as stern. “I-- not here. I don’t want to talk about it when Snape could be listening in at any moment.”

 

There was a moment of silence before Remus spoke again, this time far softer. “You were so familiar with him, just a couple days ago, did he truly betray your trust so bad?”

 

“He’s a blood purist. And, and normally I wouldn’t be so harsh but I-- I--” He grit his teeth, looking down at his knees. “I’m tired of it! From day one! At first, it was the Dursleys, then Snape got all huffy about my mother, and-- and then-- Draco said some stupid things, but then he was willing to listen, and then I come back, fall asleep, do some stupid ward magic that evidently made me think this place as a home, and then Snape goes and tells me that, in essence, he doesn’t want to say anything about his racist-ness--- and I’m just so tired of it, Remus. I’m ten, I’m not….” He suddenly caught what he was doing. “It-- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell or be mean. I just-- I’m sorry.”

 

Remus sighed and asked, “How about we go get that ice cream I promised you?”

 

Harry looked up at Remus incredulously, “After I yelled at you?”

 

“I don’t really think you were yelling at me, were you?” The man asked as he stood up. “Come on, we’ll even go to a muggle place. I got an okay from Severus, even.”

 

Remus looked at him oddly, Harry noted, he looked like he simply cared with no ulterior motive. Simply….happy to help.

 

“...Will jeans and a tee shirt work?” He asked, slowly getting up from the bed. 

 

“Absolutely.”

 

\--

 

“So you were friends with my parents, right?” Harry asked once Remus had apparated them to his house. 

 

Remus nodded as he pulled out a ring of keys and started walking to the car. “I was eleven when I started talking to your dad, and about thirteen when I started talking to your mother.

 

“Wait, you’re driving?” Harry jogged to catch up, but he was happy to see the familiar shape of a Ford. “You can drive?”

 

“I may have grown up in the wizarding world, but sometimes the muggle one just made a lot more sense,” the man said as he slid into the driver’s seat. As Harry opened the door to the back seat, Remus pointed to the open one up front. “Harry, you know you’re old enough to sit in the front, right?”

 

Harry’s eyes went wide. He’d never sat in the front. Excitedly, he sat down and buckled in. “Woah, this is so much better than Apparation.”

 

“Isn’t it? Well, come on, ask me those questions you’re dying to ask,” Remus teased, starting the car. 

 

“What were their names?” Harry asked awkwardly, messing with the envelope in his hands. 

 

When he looked up to see why Remus hadn’t responded yet, he saw a devastated look on the man’s face. He seemed to age before Harry’s very eyes. “Lily and James. I’m sorry you didn’t already know.”

 

“I know what they look like,” Harry said, trying to get the sad look out of the man’s eyes. “I truly do. I simply never heard their names...I heard my mum loved fencing and my dad liked Quidditch and my mum had red hair, but eyes like mine!”

 

“Did Severus truly tell you all that?” 

 

“Well, no. I got a letter when I was eleven from a wizard who wrote to me in the muggle way and not the bird way. He wasn’t able to tell me much, but I learned enough.” He wiggled the envelope in the air before setting it back done. “It...erm...it has a message for you in it as well. But I’ll give you the letter when, er, when you...park.” Because Remus’ knuckles were going white on the steering wheel.

 

“Who wrote you that letter?” It sounded soft, but it had an undercurrent of deep sadness. Harry would be sad too, if he were in the same spot. Sirius sounds like an amazing person, if a bit of a rash one. Okay...A lot of a rash one. 

 

“Remus, you ran a stop sign,” Harry diverted the conversation. “Are you sure you can drive?”

 

“Are you sure you’re ten?” Remus countered, then sighed. “Come on, Harry, tell me who sent it.”

 

“Someone who knows you’re a werewolf,” Harry blurted, then winced. “I’m usually better at this, sorry. That sounds cool, I mean, not fun, but like...cool.”

 

“Who-- wait--- what?” Remus finally parked and turned to look at Harry incredulously. “There’s no one who knows that aside from Snap-- Severus and Albus. At least, right now.”

 

“Right now as in the only other one is in prison?” Harry gave a sorry smile and handed Remus the letter. “I was going to give this to you later, but my gut instinct is to trust you...and I’ve only lived this long because of it. So….”

 

Remus stared him down for a moment, brown eyes zeroing in on his green ones. “This is why you mentioned Sirius Black.” Not a question. A statement. It showed Harry in an instant that he was dealing with someone brilliant.

 

“He sent me a letter….He claims he didn’t have a trial...And well, isn’t that a human right?” Harry shrunk down into his seat under Remus’ gaze. “I’m sorry, Remus, I really am.”

 

With a shaky breath, Remus turned back to the front and opened the letter gently. Harry looked down at his hands, giving Remus a moment of privacy to read the letter. He may have known it by heart, but this is the first time for Sirius’ letter to be seen by anyone else. 

 

Moments ticked by into minutes before Remus quietly and carefully tucked the letter back into its envelope. He handed it to Harry before getting out of the car. Harry didn’t move as he watched the man brace himself on the hood of the vehicle, he could see Remus’ mouth move, but couldn’t hear the words. After a moment, Harry climbed out himself. “Remus?”

 

“He could very well be lying,” Remus said, not missing a beat. “But...you’re right. He deserves a trial...How about ice cream, first?”

 

“What’s your favorite kind?” Harry asked, tucking the letter into his pocket before going over to Remus’ side of the car. “I love double chocolate. They always had it on Fridays at school.”

 

“I like mint chip.” Remus shakily pushed off of the car hood and started walking. Trying oh-so-subtly to do so, Harry slipped his hand into Remus to give him some sort of comfort. He didn’t know what Remus was going through, not...not exactly. He knew on paper what had sort of happened, Sirius had been accused of betraying his parents...but that could be anything. 

 

Questions itched under his skin. How did the betrayal lead to their deaths? What was the war? Why did Sirius suspect Remus? Some of these questions he had wanted to ask Snape, but never got around to before the whole...incident. 

 

“Mint chip? Mister Kelly liked mint chip, he was my English teacher,” Harry tried. He wasn’t too great at this small talk thing. 

 

“Did you like school, Harry?”

 

“I enjoy learning, but a lot of it really isn’t useful. Cursive is near obsolete.” 

 

“You’re quite fond of English, are you?” Remus’ voice was near amused, but still heavy with tied down emotion. 

 

“I get that a lot,” Harry admitted with a laugh. “Snape said I sounded far older than someone my age. I read a lot, that’s all.”

 

“What do you like to read?” Remus opened the door for the two of them, and oh wow it was nice to get out of that summer heat. 

 

“Fantasy is my favorite, action and adventure and all that. It’s not very useful, so I balance it out with cookbooks and wildlife survival books. Philosophy, if I can get my hands on it.” Harry finally let go of Remus’ hand as they got near the front. “What do you like to read?”

 

“Horror, admittedly. I also read a lot of sci-fi.” Remus pulled out his wallet. “One scoop or two?”

 

“One, I can’t really stomach anything else.” Harry laughed awkwardly. “Double chocolate?”

 

“Double chocolate,” Remus affirmed.

 

Harry felt this feeling of odd warmth come over him as the man went to go get the ice cream. It was different than what he felt with Snape, with Snape it was just the reality and the bare minimum...but Remus was genuinely trying, and it meant the world to him.

 

\--

 

The ice cream shop they were at was a pretty little place, it was near wherever Remus lived, likely in walking distance if he really wanted to walk it. They sat on one of those benches outside that had the little umbrella over them, and if Harry were a bit more of a geek he would admit he chose the spot just for that.

 

“Harry, did Severus ever tell you about the...circumstances behind your parents’ deaths?” Remus asked quietly, poking his spoon into his ice cream.

 

“No. It had to do with that betrayal, right?”

 

“Yes....Before you were born, there was a man called Voldemort, though many refuse to say his name. They refer to him as either as You-Know-Who or the Dark Lord--” that last one rung bells in Harry’s mind as something Snape said the day that they met. “--and he was something of a cult leader...But more Nazi regime. They hated those who weren’t of pure blood, those who were related to muggles in one way or another...but you knew that. And he did terrible things. Killed by the dozen, tortured, and threatened his terror all over Europe.” Remus paused for a moment, as if to recollect himself, but Harry interjected.

 

“Did the Malfoys...get involved in that?” Harry asked, worried for his friend.

 

“Probably.” The man admitted. “At least Lucius, and what he does, Narcissa nearly always follows. Their beliefs are being transferred down onto Draco, but you know that. And you can’t judge someone for their parents’ actions, do remember that. Either way it falls.”

 

“And the war, thing, were my parents involved in that?”

 

“We were in a group that...lead a rebellion, I guess you could say. Lily, James...Sirius and Peter. And we wanted to stop this man...and then you were born. Lily still wanted to fight, but James knew it was too risky and he refused to put your life in danger. The rest of us agreed...so they went into hiding. I didn’t even know where they were for nearly a year, we spoke only by muggle telephone-- the one thing that those Death Eaters would not touch...But then on Halloween of that year, or truly, the following by then, someone had betrayed the location of where they were staying. Sirius was supposed to take on that...charm, so to speak, and when Voldemort stormed the house--” Remus’ voice broke as he looked down. 

 

Harry extended his hand across the table to cover Remus’. He may not be of much use...he can’t bring back his parents, he can’t magic a spell to help, but he could do what Snape did for him on those first few days and simply be there. 

 

Remus sent Harry a grateful smile and continued his tale. “--When he did, the blame was tossed onto Sirius, because he was supposed to be the only one who could give that location. It always struck me as impossible. Sirius….He loved your father like a brother, and when your paternal grandparents died, he mourned them like they were his own. Most of all, he loved you. We don’t know why, or, at least I don’t, but Voldemort came after you. And he went through your parents to do that...that nifty scar,” Remus pointed at his own forehead in the spot where the lightning looking scar crackled down Harry’s forehead, “that is the remnant of what’s known as the killing curse.”

 

“Voldemort...he was after me? But...I was only a baby. It’s not like I could do... _ anything _ ,” Harry said with wide eyes. 

 

“I wish I knew. I’m sorry,” was the soft reply.

 

“Do you really think Sirius did it?” Harry asked, pulling out the letter from his pocket. “I know I’m bias because my...my sole hope was this letter for years now, but I want it to be true. He said he trusts you, the last person on earth he trusts wholeheartedly. What do you think?”

 

“I think...I think Sirius deserves a trial. Peter...Peter grew distant in the few years before, even more so in the year of....He struck me as shady, my spidey-sense, if you will.” Remus got a small giggle out of Harry for that one. “You...read in that letter, you read that he loves me, and...I love him. I’m also pretty bias.”

 

They sat in silence for a moment, mulling over the information that had just been shared. Harry’s mind was racing, attempting to compute, so in an attempt to calm it down, he asked, “What do you do for a living?”

 

“I’m….I’m a writer,” Remus admitted. “Artist….mashup. It’s easier to be self employed.”

 

“Because of the whole werewolf thing?” 

 

“Yeah,” the man huffed a laugh before taking a bite of his ice cream. “You’re not scared at all by that, are you?”

 

“Not...really. No.” Harry shook his head. “It’s like any unknown. I’m scared of it, but not of what it is, but because I’m not well read on it.”

 

“You sound like your mother.”

 

“But I look like my father,” Harry stated, but even then, it hung as a question.

 

“For sure. You have his jaw and face shape. A mix of his and Lily’s nose. Her eyes. His hair. Do you prefer it long?”

 

Harry patted down his hair, which was almost to his shoulders at that point, but sticking up every which way. “I never really thought about it. But Aunt Petunia hated it long, so I was...contradictory. I think I’d prefer it shorter, if I ever find a place to get it cut.”

 

“Tell me if you decide, I’ll take you. Mine’s getting pretty long too.” Remus ran a hand through his own messy hair, though, it was still far more tame than Harry’s. 

 

That brought a question to the forefront of his mind, one that made the hair stand up on his arms, “I have to go back to Snape’s, don’t I?”

 

“Do you truly dislike it there?” Remus’ voice was soft and non-judgemental. 

 

“...I know he means well, but I...I don’t know. It doesn’t feel right. I...I trust him. I said I didn’t, right to his face, but I do. He just...He sees me as my parents. One or the other. He doesn’t see...me for me. He cares, but doesn’t...show it well.”

 

“I can say your analysis is true as far as I can tell. I’d trust him with my life, but I don’t think I could ever live with the man.”

 

“He hates you.”

 

“He’s growing fonder of me every day.”

 

Harry broke into a full laugh, but covered his mouth, unsure if he was supposed to be so….what did Petunia say….unhinged? In public? Remus’ look assured him it was alright, so he lowered his hand, but didn’t start laughing again. “Er, Remus?”

 

“Yes, Harry?”

 

“I trust you. Today was supposed to be a day where I learned about you, where we could talk without judgement, and where I could give you this letter….And I’ve decided that I trust you. You said that I-- that you--”

 

“You’re still welcomed to stay with me,” Remus reached his hand over slowly and put it on Harry’s shoulder. “I was there the day you were born, and I swore that I would protect and help you. I know I haven’t been doing that, and I know I have a long way to start making up for that, if I ever can...But you’re my kid as much as you are Sirius’.”

 

Harry gently slid off Remus’ hand, trying not to wince at the heartbroken look that Remus’ had, though, it was just for a split second. Quickly, Harry walked around to the other side of the table and opened his arms for a hug-- his new favorite thing. 

 

Remus spun around on the bench and welcomed it.

 

And, just like that, Harry felt his magic unravelling around Snape’s cottage, and instead wrapping itself onto Remus, onto Snape, and onto himself. Anywhere can be a home, if people who care for you are there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so how was it? tasty? shaky? awkward? 
> 
> Remus Said Some Things this chapter and Harry isn't too Shookith but is going to be in the future. he's having a mellow day....it's fine. 
> 
> for next time: will Harry actually stay with Remus? Or will Snape and Harry make up? Will Harry ever actually owl Draco to keep his side of the deal? WILL REMUS AND HARRY GEEK OUT OVER BOOKS?
> 
> stay tuned for more,,,,,hope u like,,,,
> 
> it time for Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> welp. there you have it folks. hope you're ready for more of this trash because I enjoy making it!
> 
> comments are really nice and give me inspiration to write!! kudos are also adored !
> 
> if you got any suggestions: don't hesitate to drop a comment


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